


Iron and Copper

by Loriwind



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst galore, Copious TOS References, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Original Character(s), POV Alternating, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loriwind/pseuds/Loriwind
Summary: A mission ends up with the Enterprise floating powerless through neutral space and Spock on the verge of dying. In order to save his life, Kirk makes an unthinkable trade with someone from Spock’s past. From then on, he seems to make one unthinkable thing after the other.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild TW, I injured the shit out of Spock and it may be a bit too graphic.  
> (I'll fix him though, trust me, I'm a doctor!)

Being a starship Captain is a glorious job. Very few people in the known galaxy would disagree. It’s a position so universally respected that everybody, from politicians to military men, from scientists to philosophers, from schoolchildren to dilithium miners can’t help but admire. The thrill of exploring uncharted star systems, the experiences of several lifetimes squeezed in a few years, the honour of contributing to galactic peace on behalf of the Federation are all extremely attractive prospects. Of course, it’s also a profession so densely imbued with responsibility and danger that very few people in the known galaxy are suited for it. The pressure of making split-second decisions of life and death, the enormous willpower to soldier on even when those decisions are proven wrong, the impossible strength required to carry the weight of over four hundred lives on one man’s shoulders are the not-so glorious aspects of the job. Especially when crewmen _die_ and the Captain has to personally notify their families, then hang up and go about his glorious business unimpeded and wake up the next morning with the hardheaded determination to repeat it all, if necessary. Unfortunately, this glorious job was a package deal.

Captain James T. Kirk was one of those very few people in the galaxy perfectly suited for it. Back at the Academy, all the experienced instructors had discerned his potential early on. After all, he could recite all regulations by heart, aced every history test and seemed to effortlessly employ his impressive intellect in everything from programming to combatting simulated enemies. When he got in Command School, he was determined to not only become a starship captain one day, but a great one. A captain the crew could count on for everything. A captain _the Federation_ could count on for everything. Someone who could snatch victory from the tractor beams of defeat, so to speak. He had devoted himself to studying great captains, not only to pick up their winning strategies but to analyse their failures, in hopes of avoiding them. By the time he took the Kobayashi Maru test, cadet Kirk had developed such an aversion to losing, that he cheated his way to victory, by employing his impressive intellect and reprogramming the combat simulation. It didn't serve to make him less victory-oriented when, instead of being reprimanded, he was lauded for his original thinking.

Of course his original thinking wasn’t the only thing responsible for his speedy ascend through Starfleet ranks. Ensign Kirk knew the regulations, but also learned to outmanoeuvre their shortcomings. Lieutenant Kirk knew history well enough to figure out how not to repeat it. Lieutenant Commander Kirk knew when to employ his intellect but also learned when to trust his gut. And every once in a while, he witnessed situations that seemed like real - life Kobayashi Maru tests, only to see captain Garrovik outflank, outsmart or outrun them. For a while, he got so accustomed to his brilliancy that he came to expect it from himself and was largely successful. Except for that one time he wasn’t and captain Garrovik, along with two hundred of USS Farragut’s crew, had died. Guilt proved to be a far more formidable enemy than any simulation or mission could ever prepare him for. It had coated everything he saw, heard, thought and even tasted for many, many weeks. His superiors and crewmates tried in vain to convince him of his unfair harshness to himself. And his intellect, so reliable until then, had fought its hardest battle yet in swallowing that emotion. On his good days, he convinced himself he had partially digested it. On his bad ones, he just tried to ignore it. And while it was the toughest lesson he had learned, he recognised it was one of the most important. The greatest threats to one’s command often do not come from the stars, but from inside their own mind.

By the time he first set foot on the Enterprise as her commander, Captain Kirk had come to know quite well how cruelly interwoven victories and losses were. A mind as dynamic as his had adjusted by developing the rare ability to effectively shove grief, self-doubt and guilt in a deep dark corner and emerge holding hope and resolve instead. That skill enabled him to fare remarkably under stress, to make correct judgements and eventually become the best starship commander Starfleet had seen in a long time. Speaking of package deals, it came at the hefty price of either nightmares or insomnia but it also helped him suppress the fear that one day, his flaunting dismissal of no-win scenarios might come back and bite him in the ass. After all, the more his first five year mission progressed, the more he had to lose.

Assuming command of the Enterprise, Jim Kirk had expected the thrill, the experiences, the honour and the enormous burden of responsibility. He'd also expected crewmen to die under his command and trusted himself to handle whatever the universe threw at him. What he hadn’t expected to find in the Enterprise was the steadiest girlfriend he ever had.Jim had been infatuated with that starship long before he was given her command. Tall tales of the Enterprise’s accomplishments were circulating faster than gossip in Starfleet channels and Jim always received them with a mix of admiration and jealousy. The real thing was even better than he’d imagined, an altogether rare occurrence. In the first months of his command, Jim had discovered he was displaying every sign of a man in love. His first thought waking up was of the Enterprise, his last thought falling asleep was related to the Enterprise and the time in between he’d spent getting intimately acquainted with every single thing about her. He’d been in love before (he even came close to marrying once), but sooner or later, things would take a southward turn. Conflicting careers, conflicting schedules, conflicting planets, as soon as Jim met a girl he liked, he knew the catch would soon follow. When he met the Enterprise, he subconsciously kept waiting for the catch to appear, but to his amazement, it never did. And neither did his first enthusiasm, in the past so transient, subside. Instead it grew consistently in intensity and scope, until Jim came to recognise it for what it was. _Love_. He loved this ship and everything in it with all his might. And therein was the catch. Because, as he was bound to find out, the Enterprise was not only a ship, but a crew; one was nothing without the other.

There were four hundred and thirty officers on board, many of them handpicked for the Enterprise by Starfleet Command, a few by Jim himself. He had devoted a big portion of his six weeks of shore leave before the mission, studying their files, learning names, fields of expertise, peculiar skills and backgrounds. Of those officers, only one had served on the Enterprise before the five-year mission. Chief Science Officer, Lieutenant Commander Spock had already been serving on the ship for a couple of years when Jim graduated Starfleet Academy. Though you couldn’t tell by the looks of him, being half-Vulcan and all. During their first conversation, Jim was fascinated by his First Officer’s detached, elegant air and algorithmic manner of speech. By the time he knew him long enough to be annoyed by it, he had come to appreciate other things. His wisdom, his loyalty, his sense of humour, his humanity (and also the fact that he would stubbornly deny possessing the latter two). With every day that passed, Jim relied more on Spock’s assessments and suggestions; he soon figured he could even rely on his guesses. Of all the valuable lessons in becoming a great starship Captain, Kirk found the most important was to surround yourself with great officers. And when it came to the Enterprise, great officers weren’t in short supply.

The first man Jim had formed a bond with was Doctor McCoy, a humanist healer with southern manners and southern temper. They had hit it off almost immediately, when he performed Jim’s pre-mission physical. He completed his examination with meticulousness and furrowed brows, only to produce a bottle of Saurian brandy and toast to the Captain’s good health the minute it was finished.Pragmatic in his job, romantic in his spare time, the doctor grounded Jim with earthly insight when space seemed too vast to comprehend. Over time, Jim became as dependent on his input as on Spock’s and he thanked his lucky stars daily for his two most valuable officers and closest friends.

And that was before he really got to know the rest of his staff.

There was Lieutenant Uhura, a woman so knowledgable in linguistics and communications in general, that she managed to speak as eloquently with her eyes as she did with her mouth.Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott, the only man whose scientific genius had managed to obtain a draw from the Kobayashi Maru simulation and the only man who matched (and quite possibly surpassed) Kirk’s love for the Enterprise. Lieutenant Sulu, senior helmsman, whose tactical and scientific training constantly proved as considerable as his levelheadedness, occasional alien infections notwithstanding. Ensign Chekov, whose hot head contained a sharp, analytical mind and endless misapprehensions about history. Nurse Chapel, whose patience was surpassed only by her thoroughness, Lieutenant Dubois, who could list every venomous insect this side of Sigma Draconis, Lieutenant Shankara, who was a great geologist and an even greater shot, Yeoman Stevens, who was bad at logging but great at parties. The list went on and on. And as the average Enterprise mission threw landing parties, or the bridge (or both, usually) between a force field and a hard place, friendships among crew members grew fast and strong. And with every mission, smooth or bumpy, Jim got to know them a little better, and love them a little more.

Sometimes, sitting on the Captain’s chair at the bridge, Jim glanced around at the faces poring over their instruments and experienced a weird feeling. A sense that this wasn’t really a job. He felt like he was a kid back in Iowa, with his brother Sam and his cousins, playing make believe that their silly strategy game would affect the future of a colony or avert an interplanetary war. Indeed, sometimes he felt like the bridge was a huge living room, where he was playing very important, grown-up games with his family. And that’s the only thing James Kirk really didn’t expect to find in the Enterprise. A family. And the closest thing he had to a home. And that was, in itself, another catch.

Because a home is usually stationary and a family is forever. Now, with just a few months left on the five-year mission, Jim often found himself grieving in advance the only sense of belonging he had felt after leaving Iowa. But instead of wallowing in self-pity and uncertainty, James Kirk used his remarkable coping mechanisms and did the only thing he’d ever felt he was born to do. He turned despair into hope and commanded the Enterprise, cherishing every moment of it. He was determined to make the most of his time on the ship and think about the future later. He was going to continue playing the smart, grown-up games to win. And he was going to keep his ship and his crew safe and return them to their homes, even if, in so doing, he tore his own apart. And he trusted himself to deal with anything in the universe, even being separated from the people he'd come to love. And that’s where he was dead wrong.

* * *

Jim woke up from the loveliest dream to the sound of an intercom beeping persistently. He had fallen asleep on a chair, again. He had been dreaming about the Orion girl, again. With the warmth of her breath still lingering on his skin, he punched the comm button.

“Kirk here”

Scott’s voice came like from another galaxy, intermixed with static and frantic bleeping sounds.

“Engineering here, Captain”

Jim rubbed his stiff neck.

“What is it, Scotty?”

“We’ve managed to salvage the antimatter chamber, sir, but pretty much everything’s fried. No impulse, no warp, no nothing! It’ll be at least two days to get the reactor workin’ again. Until then, we've only got reserve power.”

The heaviness of sleep lingered on his eyes and a vague headache was starting to form in the base of his scull. Half of him was being seductively pulled towards Orion gardens, the other half violently jerked towards the real world. The world where Enterprise was running on battery alone, drifting through a dangerous territory, uncomfortably close to the neutral zone.

“We’ll continue with the emergency power distribution. Prioritise life support, engineering, sickbay, and sensors if we can take it”, his voice felt like it was coming from someone else. What’s more, what his voice said made excellent sense. Whoever said Captaincy wasn’t part automation?

“Aye, sir, we can take all that and shields, too! Those cloaked Romulan devils may be near the neutral zone”

“Very well, Scotty. Kirk out” he managed to say, falling back on his chair with a huff. He opened his eyes. As he became more aware of his surroundings, the Orion dreamgirl slipped further and further into the recesses of his mind. The space she left was momentarily unoccupied, void of any thoughts. But that didn’t last long.

_Spock!_

His heart immediately sank deep into his chest, as the events of the past day caught up with him. His dream of fooling around with a green alien beauty suddenly felt like ages ago. He was back in the real world alright.

“Spock!” He said out loud without realising it. The sound of Spock’s name coming out of his own lips hit him like a whip because, as he said it, he remembered Spock couldn’t hear him. And most of all because he immediately thought he might never get to call him by his name again.

Fear seeped like venom through his mind and swiftly made its way to his body. The stiffness of sleep was replaced with an equally paralysing dread. His mouth felt parched and bitter. His heart was drumming in his ears, the air feeling thin as Vulcan’s. A black hole started growing in his guts and Jim felt like he was falling into himself. Dizzy, nauseated and terminally miserable, he didn’t hear the door opening.

“Dammit, Jim! Pull yourself together!”

McCoy was standing in the doorway, a wild look in his eyes. He seemed to have aged a few years in a single day, disheveled hair pointing all directions, his entire face wrinkled with exhaustion and shining with sweat. The proper image of a mad doctor in space. Jim instinctively straightened himself and fiercely battled his shallow breathing. Whoever said being a Starship Captain wasn’t about successfully masking panic attacks in front of your crew?

“Bones. Status report?”

But Bones was impervious to bullshit. And when it came to Jim, no one was as impervious to his bullshit as the doctor. Not even Spock.

“Jim-boy, I got enough on my plate as it is to deal with your panic attacks. Breath into this for thirty seconds or I’ll serve you a hypo for the ages”.

Jim complied. He didn’t want to be the breaking point for the doctor’s frail mental stability. Plus, he couldn’t afford to falter, when the entire ship looked to him for courage and guidance. Through shaky breaths he counted backwards, pushing mightily all painful thoughts out through the back door of his consciousness, where they should join the rest of his nightmares and fester in his subconscious, ready to possess him the minute he let his guard down. No wonder he had made a habit of sleeping at 30 minute intervals at best. And no wonder he slept in his chair.

“Spock?” He asked as soon as he felt sure he wouldn’t empty his (already empty) stomach on the doctor. McCoy’s distorted face softened significantly.

“He hasn’t gotten worse”

The reply was painfully short. If he wanted to add something, he second-guessed himself almost immediately. And it was just as good. Jim didn’t want to know what that meant in doctor. In plain Standard, what he heard was that if he didn’t manage to get them back home as soon as possible, Spock might die. And,to Jim, that wasn’t an acceptable scenario.

“I see. I’ll be at the Bridge, comm me the second you have any news”

The madness returned to McCoy’s features as quickly as it had gone.

“Now where exactly are ya headed, mister?”, he hissed and confronted with Jim’s confounded stare he finally snapped.

“Jim, in the past week you have slept about a couple hours a day, always in some chair. Two of those times, it was the captain’s chair on the bridge, for God’s sake!”

Jim hadn’t realised how tired he was before the doctor broke it down for him. The previous week had been extremely demanding and Jim’s nerves felt stringier than he could keep up managing. On top of that, the previous day had almost destroyed him, at first mentally, then physically and finally emotionally. That was probably why he slipped into his happy dream place even when he closed his eyes for two hot seconds. His body was desperately trying to lure him to some respite and he was desperately trying to keep on top of himself. That might also be the reason behind the increasing difficulty he faced transitioning from dream to reality. That and the fact that every ounce of his being would much rather spend time anywhere else than a place where Spock was dying and he was powerless to stop it.

McCoy pushed a tray of tea and a bar of something that looked suspiciously nutritious in front of him.

“Now, listen! I’ve left my patients at the mercy of Chapel’s bandaged hands and she is in no position to be overworked. Ever heard of criminal negligence, Jim? You’re looking at it. All just to check up on you and bring you some god-damned food.”

Jim’s stomach growled. He _was_ hungry. Or Bones had somehow become an expert in suggestion.

“Thanks”, he said with a pained smile, downing a welcome sip of warm tea.

“What’s more, you are ordered to a five-hour rest before you resume duty. So eat up and go lie the hell down!”, McCoy barked.

“Bones, don’t be ridiculous. We both know what’s at stake here.”

“Hate to break it to ya, Jim but your ass has been added to the things “at stake here”. You may not be visibly injured but that _thing_ messed you up, too. You're pushing yourself too hard and I for one-“

“Bones, Bones!” Jim made an exhausted gesture. “With me in bed and Spock in Sickbay, Scotty is next in command. And Scotty can’t be away from the engineering deck, if we're to get on with the repairs”

“What a crock of nonsense!”, McCoy retorted. “We are barely drifting through space. There’s been no major crisis in the past five hours. We both know Sulu can run whatever’s still running in this ship just fine! ”

No major crisis in the past five hours. What a doctor way to say “Five hours have passed since Spock was almost blown to bits”. Jim pushed the bitterness down with a forced mouthful of that weird bar. Bones was just looking out for him. And deep down, he knew the doctor was right. He offered the last of his defences.

“How about I empty my plate like a good boy and you let me go to the bridge for just a couple of hours and-”

“Jim, I was called here by Ensign Daniels. He walked into the conference room to find you slumped in the chair and alerted me because you wouldn’t wake up. An ensign, Jim! An ensign called in Sickbay to practically report you sleeping. That’s gotta be a low point.”

Jim’s tattered nerves were no match for McCoy’s fervour. He nodded quietly and returned to his tray while the doctor took turns looking at him and the wall clock.

“Don’t you have patients to return to, Bones? I’ll be in my quarters, promise”, Jim gulped down the last of his tea.

“Damn straight I do, Jim! I’m a doctor, not a babysitter.”Jim’s resignation had softened McCoy’s grumpiness.

“However, I should put you to bed before all else”, he continued, suppressing a cheeky, if exhausted, smile.

Jim followed McCoy through the corridors and into his quarters. The brief walk had awakened his limbs enough to make him optimistic he could handle to return to the bridge or the engineering deck, as soon as Bones was out of his way. Sure, he wasn’t in peak performance shape but it would have to do for now. Standing in front of his door, he counted silently as the footsteps faded. When he opened it, what mental capacities remained with him were so occupied with repairs that he didn’t even feel the sting of the hypo against his shoulder. He only registered a faint hiss before he landed gracelessly into a security guard’s arms and then on the mattress of a bed he hadn’t seen in some time.

* * *

Hypos are notorious for providing dreamless, bordering-on-comatose naps. And James Kirk was notorious for being the exception to an ever-growing list of rules. As soon as the realm of dreams claimed him, the familiar gardens blossomed before his dreaming eyes. While he had never been to Orion, he knew that’s where he was. For some reason he couldn’t pinpoint yet, that place invoked a sense of security and strength in him, so much so that, in recent times, it had become his default dreamland. He wandered briefly through the mesmerising scenery he had come to recognise before he realised something was off.

There was nobody there. Not a soul. And it was deadly quiet.

In previous dreams, the gardens were bustling with visitors of a dozen different species, drunkenly trailing behind lush green-skinned beauties. In previous dreams his own green-skinned beauty was waiting for him. He could never fully make out her face but he recognised her by her unusually tall, slender frame and the special way she carried herself. Jim’s waking impression of an Orion woman was that of a small, curvaceous figure, half-walking, half-dancing on semi-dislocating hips but the object of his unconscious affections moved with reserve and gravitas. And surprisingly, that did the trick for him. She never spoke to him, but maybe it wasn’t necessary, because she looked at him with dark eyes that singed him to his core. She was almost naked, with tiny scraps of fabric magically clinging to her chest and waist. In the Orion twilight, her smooth skin gave off an outlandish glow and her shiny black hair fell gracefully on straight shoulders.

And despite all this, her air was more that of a warrior from an ancient tribe than a professional supersexed seductress, as silly galactic stereotypes made Orion women to be. She made him feel small and gigantic at the same time, weak in the knees and also ready to take on any adversary in the galaxy. Jim had been embarrassed to realise he had developed a crush on her and justified it by forming the theory that his brain had created her to entice him to sleep more often. It remained a mystery why his brain would choose a green alien warrior who looked like she had swallowed one of her arrows instead of the usual blonde bombshell but his heart apparently welcomed the deviation.In the last few months, she had become a fixture in his dreams and her warm presence had largely driven the usual set of nightmares away. Maybe that was ultimately why his brain created her, he thought, or why he had gotten disproportionately attached to a figment of his imagination. Or maybe it was simply that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while. Any which way, the fact remained, that creature had become one of the few sources of blissful relaxation in what was a pretty stressful lifestyle.

And now she was nowhere to be seen. That alone wasn’t a problem, he had had to search for her before. It wasn’t the total absence of other people that alarmed him, either. It was the _feel_ of everything. While he couldn’t find anything particularly different, the whole scenery had changed. The familiar surroundings felt cold and empty, as if a deathly dust had settled over them and was eating away at the planet. With the certainty only dreams can provide, he suddenly knew he had to find his alien friend quickly. The first grips of panic tugged at his feet and he found himself running.

As an all-too-familiar desperation started gaining up on him, the terrain around him changed accordingly. Trees stretched and bent ominously over his path, rocks and trunks sprouted from the ground and soon he was wrestling with thick branches and snake-like vines that seemed to appear out of nowhere. While he was clawing and pushing, with even the tiniest movement only making matters worse, a vicious sense of foreboding towered over him. He knew something was _very_ wrong, he knew something had changed, he knew he had to fix it but that was about all he knew. He was getting desperate and about to give up when, to his overwhelming relief, he made out a faint green glow behind a thicket. The branches and shrubbery magically softened and dissolved as he made his way towards her. Everything around faded to near universal darkness, as if a stage light was cast directly onto her. In the distance, Jim thought he could see her lying on a patch of grass, sleeping peacefully. His heart fluttered in anticipation as he approached. Things were finally falling into place after the whole zombie forest affair and all was not ruined. And then Jim was close enough to see that it wasn’t _grass_ she was lying on. His heart skipped a beat.

Her body was a long, limp mass of horribly wounded flesh and a viscous green substance seemed to ooze from every single square millimetre of it. Jim kneeled down next to her and felt the warm blood soak his trousers. His insides writhed painfully.

“No”, he thought. “This can’t be.”

Her eyes stared blankly at the stars above them. Jim was already unable to adjust to the sight of her mangled frame but the dead eyes did him in. His hands hovered a few centimetres above her, unsure how to proceed. She looked like she might fall apart with the slightest touch.

“No, no, no, no”,Jim kept whispering in his mind.

And then her chest moved almost imperceptibly. He put his hand on the bony ribcage and felt the impossible warmth of her blood against his frozen palm. She drew another faint breath. A strong metallic odour filled his nostrils and the sheer horror sickened him. Her head tilted slightly toward him. Bloody strands of black hair stuck to her skull behind her pointed ears. Her gaze trudged to meet his own and her lips parted with what looked like enormous effort.

“ _Cap…tain_ ”, she exhaled.

Her eyes were glassy and it was all he could do to just stare into them, painfully aware that there was something in them, something that struggled to reach the surface but instead sank further with every passing moment. An important thing, an understanding, something he should know. He moved closer to her face, as if mere proximity might help convey her message. Incapacitated as he was, he didn’t see her lift her hand with the last of her strength. Her bloodied fingers fell awkwardly on the side of his face, startling him.

He woke up in a cold sweat.

Her voice still rang in his head, weak but clear, and so, so familiar. The hypo still held a firm grip over his faculties and, once again, Jim found it challenging to distinguish dream from reality. He was in his quarters, though. It was all a nightmare, none of it had actually happened. Yet he could still hear the familiar voice. And the metallic smell was still lingering in his nostrils, softer but definitely present. And then he remembered.

“ _My trousers are still soaked in Spock’s blood”_

After Spock had been transferred to Sickbay, someone had kindly pointed out to Jim that he’d better change his shirt, which by that time was more green than golden. However, his uniform trousers were black and the general mayhem had ensured that practically nobody had noticed, himself included. The realisation came to him suddenly and, for once, he was thankful for the doctor’s treacherous medication, because it definitely took the edge off of the searing pain. He was honestly surprised he could hold the thought of Spock _bleeding out all over him_ for more than a second without feeling the dire need to shove it where the consciousness don’t shine. Unwittingly, he brought his hand to where Spock’s blood had dried on his clothes.

“I really have to pull myself together”, he thought and thanked the hypo again for the artificial calmness. The dream was coming back to him in vivid flashbacks and it finally made sense, now that he was almost awake.

Jim had seen his fair share of bloodshed on Tarsus IV. The images had been with him for such a long time, they were almost part of him. Of course, he had suffered from them but occasionally weathered them and even used them to his advantage. So far, during their mission, they had been spared carnage of that magnitude but nevertheless, it was a dangerous line of business they were in. Jim knew that better than most and being unfazed by the sight of his or his shipmates’ blood was vital in maintaining successful command.

Still, nothing he encountered on any planet in his thirty-odd years had prepared him for what he felt when he first rushed to the engineering room after the explosion. At first he couldn’t even register that the green pool on the floor was blood, let alone fathom it was Spock’s. It was even harder to recognise Spock was the dark heap sprawled over the thick liquid. As he frantically comm’ed Bones to fly there with a medical team, it was by his distinct ears that he first realised where his First Officer’s face was, before his eyes could adjust to the horrid sight and at least make out that he was in one piece. He hadn’t expected that, one day, counting Spock in one piece would be considered a relief of sorts, but there you go.

And then Spock had turned and looked at him. He saw now how the nightmare mirrored his memory almost frame by frame, only Spock was replaced by his dream crush. The way her eyes had met his, barely clinging to life, the way she'd said “Captain” with what felt like her last breath, even her pointed ears made sense. (He had seen an Orion woman in the flesh only once, and he was pretty sure her ears were round, like his.) And her voice, Jim realised now, was most likely Spock’s, that’s why it sounded so familiar. It wasn’t the first time that thoughts he painstakingly avoided all day caught up with him in his sleep. And right now, his fear of losing his First Officer and dearest friend was ranking very high on his list of things to avoid thinking about. Honestly, it was only logical that this fear would taint even his last emotional sanctuary, as his First Officer and dearest friend would most likely point out, if he wasn’t too busy fighting a losing battle against death.

“Medicine works wonders”, he thought. After the sickbay doors whooshed shut in his face, he had busied himself with practically anything to keep him from thinking this might be the last time he’d seen Spock alive. And now here he was, in mild sleep paralysis with nothing to distract him. And he hadn’t come undone. That had to count as a win for medicine. Surely medicine should have a couple more tricks up its sleeve to put Spock together again.

He was still heavily drugged and that’s how he justified gently stroking an area where Spock’s blood had dried on his uniform. The coarse fabric rubbed dryly against his fingertips. The repetitive motion was grounding him to a bizarre truth. Part of Spock was with him and sinister as it may be, Jim felt somehow comforted. Hot tears flowed uncontrollably from the corners of his eyes and memories of Spock flocked in his head. But instead of gut crunching fear, he was experiencing an odd, reassuring warmth that caught him by surprise. That feeling couldn’t have come from inside him, he wasn’t capable of such tranquility on his own. Illogical as it was, the one to usually provide him with emotional security was measured, impassive, rational Mr. Spock and, for a few seconds, Jim would swear that he was actually communicating with him, that they had established a flimsy, yet undeniable connection. And in those seconds, Jim knew that this couldn’t be the end. He would figure something out, like he always did. They would make it at the last minute, like they always did. And they would somehow continue exploring the universe, for as long as there was a universe to explore.

“Or it may just be that I’m _really_ stoned”, he sighed but he was too exhausted to debate himself. He was being dragged back under, his thoughts growing duller by the second. The good doctor’s hypo was taking over again.

”O! True apothecary, thy drugs are quick”, he thought bitterly. The line had sprung from some unexpected place in his brain. Spock would no doubt have replied: “Shakespeare, Earth ca 1590” but Jim was too far gone to think about it. Ancient words rippled through his head as he gradually let go of the stained fabric he’d been clutching.

“Thus with a kiss I die”

This time he slept a heavy sleep, delivered from nightmares.


	2. Chapter 2

The doctor’s remedy was not only effective but pretty time-specific, Jim acknowledged with some resentment. After five hours almost to the minute he rolled out of bed, feeling somewhat stiff and disoriented but with his strength and sapience largely restored. The shame of having slept like a log while his crew toiled away sent him flying to the bridge. Upon entering, he looked around at people going about their tasks, then at the endless expanse of stars on the external viewscreen and he suddenly re-experienced the same unease of his dream.

The bridge felt _wrong_. Sure, there were a few holes here and there and he could still detect the distinct whiff of burnt circuitry. Half the officers manning the stations were sporting bruises and bandages and, of course, Spock wasn’t there. But none of these things were to blame. The bridge had seen much worse, his officers too. And Spock had been missing in action before, even presumed dead a few times and the bridge had felt the same. But this was the first time Jim had been forced to spend two helpless, agonising minutes before the medics arrived, with Spock injured beyond recognition, drawing shallow breaths at intervals that seemed impossible. It was the first time he had slipped and landed flat on his back in _a fucking pool of Spock’s blood_. The knowledge that this kind of horror existed had thrown a strange veil over his eyes, through which the bridge, along with everything else, felt…well, _wrong_.

Sulu was sitting on the command chair, absorbed in his conversation with Chekov.

“Good morning, gentlemen”, Jim managed a faint smile as he walked up to them.

“Good _evening_ , Keptin”, Chekov smiled back, elbowing an exhausted Sulu to empty Jim’s seat.

“Status report, Mr. Sulu”, Jim said warily and glanced around. Uhura smiled warmly at him, an infinite sadness in her eyes, reminding him how her perceptiveness went way beyond her job. The bridge felt wrong, for sure, but the same couldn’t be said for the crew. Surrounded by dependable colleagues definitely eased his professional burdens but surrounded by loving friends made it much easier to to face the bleakness of the current affairs. Even in this rotten situation, Jim thanked his lucky stars, probably for the millionth time.

“Main and auxiliary power still down, Captain. Navigational systems unresponsive. Phaser banks almost completely repaired, shields operating at half power”

Jim couldn’t help turning towards the science station, where Lt. Botero was monitoring her screens intently. She must have felt Jim’s shift of focus because she turned to face him, an uncertain expression on her face. The stark contrast of her short, round figure and long red braids to the station’s usual occupant left him frozen for a couple of seconds. 

“Umm, sensors remain functional, sir. Maximum range scans aren’t turning anything up. However..”, she hesitated and glanced sideways at the helm. Chekov nodded encouragingly.

“…On our present course and at our present speed, computations indicate we will enter the Romulan neutral zone in approximately six hours”

Okay, that was quite bad. But it wasn't what bothered Jim the most in regard to the science officer's statement. Six hours sounded like a legitimate approximation, yet he was absurdly disappointed by the lack of a decimal point. He' d been endlessly amused and, in turns, annoyed by Spock’s computer-like precision and now he was, idiotically and in spite of himself, wondering whether “approximately six” meant 5.96 or 6.03 hours. Of course, such accuracy was completely redundant at this point, a fact Botero was definitely aware of. Jim chastised himself for dwelling on nonsense and turned to Uhura.

“We’ve got internal communications back, Captain. There is some subspace interference but I’ve managed to dispatch a message to HQ. Unfortunately, the nearest relay station is a considerable distance from here and there are presently no Federation Starships that we know of in this or nearby sectors. Starfleet HQ is expected to receive our messages in 2.58 weeks”, she finished with a sigh. Then she offered the tiniest of smiles.

It wasn’t like Uhura to give so formal reports. Jim thought she might be playing Spock for his sake or for the sake of the bridge. Then he thought that he was just counterproductively overthinking perfectly normal interactions. And finally, the significance of what Uhura had said sank in and all that mattered was that they were in deep, deep trouble. He turned to the external view screen but even the stars looked wrong. Of course, space looks quite dynamic when one is travelling at several times the speed of light. Now, stripped of their technological edge, they were floating freely and very little seemed to change in the scenery before them. It was as if they had entered some wacky force field and the Enterprise had been put on hold, along with everything else around her. But Jim knew nothing was actually on hold. The universe was still expanding, vessels were still travelling, the crew was working around the clock to fix the ship and Spock was still fighting for his life. And Jim had to do something about it; if only he knew what. He pressed a button on his armrest.

“Kirk to Engineering. Come in, Mr. Scott”

“Scott here.”

“How’s it going, Scotty?”

“For every circuit restored, I find two more need fixin, Cap’n!” the strain in his voice was evident. Jim knew that Scotty would fix the Enterprise, if it cost him his sanity or his life. He also knew how the engineer hated pushing the ship, especially when she was damaged.

“Listen, in six hours we’ll enter the neutral zone. Will we at least have impulse by then?”

“Captain! I don even know if we’ll have the light switch fixed by that time!”

Jim knew how difficult this was for Scotty. The ship lay in his hands greatly wounded, unresponsive and he was the only one that could fix her. Jim couldn’t help but think again how helpless he’d felt a few hours ago, trying to figure out which part of Spock he could touch without causing him further affliction. Not to mention Scotty had probably been up for over twenty-four hours and the exertion was taking its toll.

“I _know_ you can do this, Mr Scott. Fix only what’s imperative, bypass any circuit possib-“

“Aye, sir, that’s what I’ve been doing! Still, I can’t bend time to fit more repairs!”

“Scotty, you quite literally bend time for a living”, said Jim patiently. “Six hours. Take a breather, clear your head and figure this out. Consider that an order. If we run into trouble, we need some manoeuvring capability at the very least.”

"But-"

"Don't make me fire you." It was spoken so tenderly that Scotty only gave a defeated “Aye”. Jim took a deep breath. And now for the hardest part.“Kirk to Sickbay. Dr McCoy?”

Nothing.

“Bridge to Sickbay, please respond.” He hoped the trepidation didn’t show in his voice. The silence stretched ominously. Everybody was minding their stations but their ears were there.Jim was halfway to the turbolift when an answer finally came.

“Sickbay to Captain Kirk. Chapel here”

Jim took another deep breath, batting away the swarm of nasty thoughts generated by McCoy’s unavailability.

“What’s going on, nurse? Where’s McCoy?”

The silence probably lasted a single second but felt like ten.

“Dr McCoy is busy at the moment, Captain. We still have many patients and we’re stretched rather thin. But it's mostly minor wounds and I’m pleased to report no additional casualties, sir.”

No. Additional. Casualties.

Jim knew he was probably being dramatic. But he could hear horrific implications in those three words, not just the nurse stating facts. If Spock had been added to the casualties, surely Jim would have been informed the next minute. Still, he couldn’t shake the damned uncertainty.“ _Is Spock still alive_?” was all he wanted to ask but the question wouldn’t leave his throat. He looked around. The crew had all turned their heads towards him. The question hung unspoken in the air among them.

“Has..um.. Mr. Spock’s condition changed?”,he managed with unexpected composure.

Silence. Jim was holding his breath. So was half the Bridge crew.

“I...I’m afraid I don’t know, sir, I’m not assigned to the isolated chamber. Dr McCoy will fill you in, first chance he gets”

“Thank you, Christine. Kirk out” He turned towards the turbolift once more.“Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. I’ll either be in Sickbay or Engineering. One of them is bound to work a miracle, I know it.”

The elevator doors closed. The bridge fell silent for a moment.

“Vell, from experience, that is probably true”, Chekov said, turning his attention once more to the hastily repaired instruments before him.

“It will just have to be _both_ of them” Uhura nodded. Her soft, confident voice soothed everyone it reached.

“One for all our sakes, the other mostly for the Captain’s”, she said to herself. The bridge didn’t need to hear things they already knew.

* * *

The walk from the turbolift of Deck 5 to Sickbay wasn’t particularly long and this time Jim really needed it to be. He deliberately slowed his pace, turning the last corners almost as if traversing a minefield. One part of him wanted to stay by Spock’s side until he was either dead or improving while a different one desperately wished to avoid coming face to face with something he couldn’t even begin to accept. Plus, he’d be of greater help down in Engineering, assisting Scotty in any way he could.

A few years ago, a wobbly transporter had made this duality of his character dangerously manifest and produced two opposite Kirks; one benevolent, the other a raging maniac. This had opened Jim’s eyes to warring forces inside him. Embarrassing though it had been, accepting their existence had helped him play to their strengths and recognise their failings. It had also helped him understand Spock a bit better. Much like his First Officer, he was the product of two conflicting natures, forced to cooperate toward a beneficial end.

Jim loved to tease Spock whenever his human side peeked out of the aloof Vulcan façade. The look of stubborn denial or outright offence on Spock’s face was always amusing and usually followed by a suspiciously humorous retort. But it had also served as an exercise in self-awareness for Jim himself. He’d made such a habit of discerning between his friend’s two halves that he had started applying it to himself. Now and again, especially in extraordinary situations, he’d reflect on his own actions and thoughts, wondering which side of him was responsible. Introspection hadn't always been Jim’s forte but, under that light, it had proven an interesting practice. And while the two Spocks were a Vulcan and a human, a logical being and an emotional one, with the two Kirks it was slightly different. Jim felt that Good and Evil was too superficial a way to categorise them (not to mention downright troubling). He often had difficulty pinpointing the exact quality at the core of the division but, after all, it was just a game he played by himself and for himself. Positive and Negative, Creative and Destructive, Prudent and Impulsive, Weak and Strong, many half-Kirks existed, depending on the situation. At the moment, taking the last few steps to Sickbay, with one part dying to rush inside and the other to make a hard U-turn to Engineering, Jim wouldn’t be able to tell which half was which if his life depended on it.

Sickbay was still overflowing with injured officers. They had been forced to use adjacent rooms and quarters to accommodate them but, luckily, the medical equipment had been spared the large scale disruption that plagued most other stations. After all Sickbay officers finally succumbed to the maddening effects of that blasted alien's weapon, they had stomped on a few vials and pipettes and punched a few shelves but nothing their replicator couldn’t handle. Jim entered, barely recognising the place. Doctors and nurses were too preoccupied to notice him, McCoy was nowhere to be seen and he was left feeling lost for a moment. He had almost made up his mind to turn around and leave, when Nurse Chapel spotted him and gently urged him towards the back of the room.

Spock had been taken to the isolated chamber, a claustrophobic sterile room Jim had been lucky to avoid so far. He sat at a chair conveniently placed in front of the big glass screen that separated the room into two. Through it, he saw McCoy inside, his back turned, barely recognisable in a pale blue full body suit. There was an array of monitors above him and one needn’t be a doctor to figure out things didn’t look good. Most screens were half red with glaring alarms and Jim loathed those indications with a vengeance. Spock lay on a biobed in the middle of the tiny room. With the exception of a few strips of green flesh visible between the dressings, he was covered head to toe in glossy bandages. The entire image was frankly surreal. Like Bones and Spock had spontaneously decided to quit their jobs and play dress up in the middle of a crisis and the first available outfits they'd found were space exterminator and robotic mummy. Jim was already eager to protest the actuality of what was going on in front of him and the sight made it way easier. _This couldn’t possibly be real_.

Never, to Jim’s knowledge, had the doctor worn a hazmat suit to treat a patient, no matter how grave their condition. Never had a patient been taken to the isolated chamber. Never had he seen so many monitors over someone and so offensively red, at that.And never had Bones regarded a patient with such utter helplessness that it was visible through layers of weird spacesuit fabric while facing the other way. The effect of this overwhelming novelty on Jim was luckily hit-and-miss. One moment the gravity of the circumstances fell on him like a ton of bricks and the next the ludicrousness of it assured him this had to be a trick, a hallucination, a downright lie.

Sitting in a stripped room, watching their loved ones floating between life and death will do that to a person. Add that to the numerous times that aliens had played games with his eyes, his mind, even his body and Jim was almost ready to believe he was being experimented on. Maybe the influence of the weapon that had turned Spock into a bloody mess, the Enterprise to a clump of inert machinery and her entire crew to raving madmen had not yet worn off. Maybe this was a test. Maybe the alien was still here, maybe.. The sound of McCoy exiting the decontamination chamber forced Jim out of his increasingly illogical thoughts. He remembered he ought to be mad at the doctor for the mutinous hypo but then, as he was slipping out of his weird suit, Jim took a better look at his friend. Slump-shouldered and red-eyed, he was a painful sight to behold. The doctor had probably been right here working while Jim was soundly slumbering thanks to him. 

“Bones, you look like hell.”

“Well, try reassembling a Vulcan from memory and see what it does to _you_ ”, he snapped back and instantly regretted it.“I’m sorry, Jim. I’m at my wits' end.”

“How is he? The truth.”

The doctor let out a sigh.“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean _you don’t know_? You got more instruments than the bridge in there. Tell me something, _anything.”_ Jim’s respect and gratitude for the doctor’s efforts softened his tone. McCoy looked at him miserably.

“I _honestly_ don’t know, Jim. I don’t understand. His tests results are dreadful, his vital functions, even adjusting for his Vulcan physique, barely readable. Look at the monitors. The _truth_ is he should be dead.”

Jim flinched.

“But he’s not. Explain.”

“That’s the problem, Jim! _I can’t_. He may have slipped into a healing trance but his brain is so badly damaged that I’m not sure he could even do that. I mean, I’ve got him on full life support and he _still_ should be dead.”

“Bones, there’s _got_ to be something you can do.”

The doctor shook his head.

“If there is, it beats me. I don't think I’d be of much help to a human in such a state, let alone a god-damned Vulcan, Jim! There’s still so much we don’t know about their anatomy, their response to injury, their entire fucking physiology! Even M’Benga thinks there is nothing else that can be done.”

Doctor M’Benga had completed his internship on Vulcan. He was the only Starfleet doctor with actual experience from a Vulcan clinic. Jim had specifically asked for him to be assigned to the Enterprise, seeing as the First Officer of any ship is someone frequently exposed to danger. From that point on, Jim had felt a lot safer sending Spock on dangerous assignments. He had believed that, in case of injury, M’Benga’s expertise would make all the difference, give Spock the same fighting chance everyone else on the ship had. Only now was he beginning to grasp the level of his folly. And he couldn’t help feeling this was somehow his fault. That there must have been other precautions he could have taken. Something else he should have done. Jim’s thoughts were spiralling and the doctor was reading them clear as his very own.

“There’s only so much a doctor can do, Jim. Spock knew it and I knew it. After the, um, _incident_ with Sarek, I made him come every few months and bank some of that green blood of his. He obliged me but insisted transfusions are of specific and limited use to Vulcans. And now that I’m almost out of blood bags, I hate to admit it but he was probably right.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You have doctor confidentiality and Vulcan secretiveness to thank for that. He told me that in case he got his ass handed to him, our best chance would be to take him to Vulcan and let their healers do their voodoo crap on him. Although he probably phrased that differently.”

The thought of opinionated Spock stoically indulging McCoy in his blood bank request was almost too painful for Jim to bear.

“Dammit Bones, what am I going to do? Even if the ship was functional, at warp 9 it would take _weeks_ to reach Vulcan. Could he hold on until then?” 

McCoy’s eyes fell on his and he knew the answer right then and there.

“Logic says no”, he said and then turned to look at Spock, as if Spock might have something to say on the matter. “But logic also says that even a Vulcan couldn’t survive whatever that… _thing_ did to him. And yet here he is.”

Of all the times Jim had thought he might lose Spock, this one stung differently. He tried not to dwell on it but it was there. He couldn’t help wondering if that alien sensation settling over him was defeat. Loss. Was that what defeat felt like? Had his senses accepted that which his mind was so stubbornly denying? It couldn’t be. There had to be something they had overlooked. Something they could use. Spock would have known. Spock knew everything. Spock _knows_ everything, he corrected himself angrily. And Spock would give his two cents on the matter after Jim pulled himself together and did his damn job right. His First Officer was still doing his; far better than everyone else, too. He had saved the ship and was now refusing to die, when all factors said he should. Jim would just have to match that level of effort. 

He got up.

“I’ll be in Engineering. Do whatever you can and keep me posted. Oh..and Bones, please refrain from sedating your senior officers in the future.”

“Can’t promise, but I’ll try.”

* * *

Engineering was another level of hell. It looked even worse now than it had a few hours ago. The entrails of the Enterprise were laid bare, ripped cables protruding out of boards like weeds, engineers replacing and reconnecting them with the speed of automated workers. And it still wasn’t enough. At least this kind of mess was infinitely better than what Jim had faced right after the explosion. Thankfully someone had mopped up the pool of blood off the floor. Jim caught himself looking down, masochistically searching for traces of greenish hue.If there were any, he didn’t see them and soon Scotty crossed the room to meet him.

“Captain, how is Mr. Spock?”

Jim knew Scotty worked better under pressure. And at the moment, pressing matters existed in abundance.

“The doctor says he might die, Scotty. Unless we get the ship running soon and take him to Vulcan.”

Scotty’s face started to contort in protest but he stopped himself quickly. He looked at Jim and the pain in his eyes was palpable. “Captain.. I don’t know wh-”

“It’s alright”, Jim gave him a nod. “I don’t know what to do, either. I even thought if time travel might be possib-”

“It isn’t, sir! I don't know if it’s the lack of sleep but I thought of it too..” Scotty’s expression was almost comical.

Jim had struggled a bit to persuade himself it wasn’t possible. He was convinced only when he realised that, if there was even the slightest chance they could pull a crazy stunt like travelling through time, the one to make all the necessary computations was the person they were trying to save with said crazy stunt. _Enter_ another catch. Jim had been thorough enough in his study of Earth war literature to even know the number of this particular catch. At any rate, he decided to go over the repairs with Scotty, hoping years of close proximity to Spock’s scientific methods had rubbed off on him, so that he’d figure out a logical course of action in time. Of course, somewhere deep deep down, probably at the only spot his two different sides converged, Jim Kirk knew that, if he was going to pull this off, he would have to do something pretty _illogical_.

For now he occupied himself reconnecting circuits, bypassing controls and discussing alternatives with Scotty, keeping an ear to the intercom for calls from Sickbay or the bridge. As minutes became hours and no calls came, Jim found himself contemplating the irritating old saying “No news, good news”. He’d always thought of it as self-deceiving, if not completely moronic but was now warming up to it. He had almost come to the conclusion that it was a comforting little snippet of folk wisdom, when Scotty loudly exclaimed from the other side of the room “Ah fuckin finally! Cap’n, we should have impulse now!” and Jim instantly forgot all about that nonsense. Some news were positively brilliant and he allowed himself a smile. A miracle might be on the horizon after all.

As if cued by some galactic trickster god, Uhura’s voice came from the intercom. “Bridge to Captain Kirk! Please report to the bridge!”

Jim was on his feet before Uhura finished her sentence. So much for good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was kinda short and uneventful but the next one is pretty long and eventful and I had to divide it somehow!


	3. Chapter 3

Sensors are remarkable instruments. They are able to pick up tiny things like dust and invisible things like radiation; from a considerable distance, too. Long range scans can obtain readings from as far as a parsec away, meaning that, depending on warp speed, it might take up to a few days for whatever the sensors are picking up to appear on the external viewscreen. When there is no warp speed to depend on, the readings are from so far away that it would take _centuries_. Jim knew that. Still, upon entering the bridge, Chekov informed him sensors were suddenly picking up debris and he stupidly glanced up at the view screen. Of course, he saw nothing but mocking emptiness and cruel stillness, so he made his way to his chair, trying again as hard as he could to ignore the sense that _everything_ was wrong. But this time they had impulse power and, if he knew Scotty, the warp drive ought to be back on sooner rather than later.

“Distance, Mr Chekov?”

“42.1 au, sir”

 _That close?_ Jim turned towards the science station. This was a motion his chair performed almost on its own. Again, faced with Lt Botero, he was irrationally struck by her not being Spock and again he had to remind himself to stop being ridiculous and start doing his job. This was potentially serious.

“How come we didn’t register the debris before, Lieutenant? Instrument malfunction?”

“Unlikely, Captain. The same area had been scanned successfully a few minutes before we picked it up. The readings are consistent with a destroyed vessel”

 _Great. Just great,_ Jim thought to himself. “A Starfleet vessel?”

“No, sir. The quantity of the debris indicates it’s either a small vessel or part of a bigger one. I believe it had been cloaked before its destruction and that’s why we didn't register it.”

“So, unless it stepped on a space-mine, it’s safe to assume another ship just destroyed it. And we are not reading any other vessel, correct?”

She nodded. Okay, so maybe Jim wasn’t mistaken in thinking everything was going wrong.

"Mr Sulu, do we have impulse?”

“Yes, sir”

“Shields at full power. Let’s get as far away from the neutral zone as possible. 153-mark-12, full impulse. Mr Chekov, lay in a course for Starbase 234.”

“Aye, si-”

“Captain! Alien vessel, dead ahead!”, Botero shouted, looking up from her scanner.

 _Of course._ Jim’s jaw stiffened as he looked up at the screen. At first he saw absolutely nothing. Then the more distant stars quivered almost imperceptibly, like the slightest of breezes was blowing through a million tiny candles. Within a few seconds, a Romulan battle cruiser had fully materialised in front of them. If Jim thought he was running mostly on adrenaline for the past few days, he was now forcefully corrected, as a tidal wave of it crashed all over him. It swallowed him whole for a moment before it spat him out on a very familiar shore. Thankfully, Jim Kirk thrived on adrenaline. His senses started tuning in and his head clearing up, every last braincell reporting for duty. Despite having spent the day objecting to reality, he was now soaking it up it in its entirety, Romulans and all. He took a good look at their vessel: smaller than the Enterprise, but probably more mobile. She looked like she had taken a beating but appeared intact. His mind started playing a frantic game of chess with the possible scenarios.

“Red alert. All hands battle stations. I repeat, all hands battle stations”, he shouted into his armrest mic. “Mr Sulu, have main phasers standing by”

“Phasers standing by”

“Lt Botero, has their ship taken any damage?”

“Minor damage to hull. Some shields are compromised, none inoperative. Main batteries damaged but functional. Several life readings on board”

Jim punched another button. “Engineering, this is the Captain!” An unexpectedly energetic “Aye” came from the speaker a couple of seconds later.

“Scotty, we’ve got company. You better work fast.”

“I’m working as fast as I can, Captain! It’ll take another hour to get the warp drive running!”

“I don’t know if we have an hour, Scotty. Kirk out.” Jim stared at the vessel. It was safe to assume they had been damaged taking down that other ship. It was also safe to assume they had destroyed the other vessel very quickly and efficiently, since nothing had appeared on the sensors until now. And unless the Enterprise had unknowingly drifted into the neutral zone, they had done all that in Federation territory and didn't mind revealing it. 

“Lt Botero, is it possible we have entered the neutral zone?”

“Negative, Captain! Navigational systems and data banks were not that badly scrambled. I believe repairs were thorough.”

The Romulan ship could withstand a few hits before she went down. With the Enterprise still moving on emergency impulse power, the exact definition of “a few hits” was uncomfortably crucial. More importantly, the Romulan vessel had a cloaking device. Even more importantly, they had entered Federation territory and uncloaked themselves in front of a constitution class spaceship, when they could have easily gone back home undetected. Unveiling a direct violation of the treaty meant the Romulans were either looking for a fight with the Federation or didn’t intend for the Enterprise to survive in order to report it. Both explanations were unsettling. And by now they probably had readings on the Enterprise’s status. Jim’s chess games were producing unfavourable outcomes in rapid succession.

Still, the battle cruiser was now staring them down, making no move. Τhat didn't seem like the Romulan thing to do, if Jim knew anything about them. Could they be stalling? Could their ship be more damaged than the readings indicated? Could it be that they had run out of fuel to power their cloaking device? Jim remembered how taxing that contraption had been on the Enterprise’s engines. But he felt that there was _something else,_ another reason behind this curious behaviour. Jim’s hunches were infamously right. That quality had helped him become slightly better at chess, much better at poker and excellent at commanding a starship. And as the seconds passed in utter silence, he was getting the impression that this would prove a game more suited for Poker Jim than Chess Jim.

“Keptin, what are they doing?” Chekov broke the tension.

“Unsure, Mr Chekov. I'd love to stall but if they’re out to start a war, there may be more of them on the way. Uhura, send a coded message to Starfleet command, relaying our situation. And open hailing frequencies.”

“Aye, sir. Hailing frequencies open”

A few seconds went by. Jim was tapping on his armrest, still playing scenarios in his head while the Romulans either failed or declined to respond. Riding the sudden wave of focused energy, he felt prepared for practically anything at that point. He was ready to stall, to bluff, to negotiate a peaceful resolution with his demonstrably mediocre diplomatic skills, to fight a Romulan battleship while moving at impulse speed, even blow up the Enterprise along with everyone on board, if all else failed. Of course, the universe has a funny way of messing with people who feel prepared to tackle anything. So it produced the only thing Jim wasn’t expecting at that moment: a familiar face.

“Captain Kirk. We meet again”, she said in a cold voice.

It took him a few seconds to connect the image to the memory. The last he’d seen of her, they were beaming her down to a federation outpost. Jim recalled how gracefully, if begrudgingly, she had accepted their hospitality for the short duration of her captivity aboard the Enterprise. And he remembered the pained, disdainful look she had cast Spock as she was dematerialising in the transporter. About a year had passed since that mission. And there she was, back in command of a Romulan battleship. Jim didn’t know much about the Romulan military but that was probably quite remarkable.

“Commander!", he finally said," I must confess you’re the last person I expected to see. If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you this side of the fence?” Jim’s voice had regained it’s boldness. The commander’s face hardened momentarily and then, like something clicked in her brain, she smiled.

“You are either a bad joker or a worse navigator, Captain. It is _you_ who has crossed into Romulan space. As it is _you_ who are no doubt about to don a pair of ears and attempt something clever again.”

His surprise was too great to hide. He instinctively looked at Botero, who looked equal parts puzzled and mortified. The Romulan didn’t fail to notice. “Speaking of pairs of ears, have you disposed of your First Officer?”, she continued. Jim’s stupefaction lasted a mere moment before he recognised the same look in the Commander’s face that he had seen in the transporter room. Through the pridefulness and vitriol, he picked up a certain amount of hurt. Could it be that Spock had done such a number on her?

“Commander, we were recently attacked by an alien entity that compromised our navigational systems . _If_ we have entered the neutral zone, I assure you it wasn’t done on purpose. Our ship’s logs will definitively prove that”

Her eyes lit up with anger. “You are misjudging my tolerance, Captain, in serving me the exact same lie as last time! I know enough of your intelligence by now to let you underestimate mine again”, she said.

“I'm flattered. But I assume you have readings on my ship’s condition. I believe they provide some validity to my claim, _unimaginative_ as you may find it. As I have readings of my own on you and that other vessel”, Jim said gingerly.

“Your _readings_ leave a lot to be desired”, she scoffed. “After all, they supposedly indicate you are in Federation space”

“I know my word carries little weight with you, Commander. But I can prove we did get attacked and sustained substantial damage, some to our navigational systems”. Jim sized her up carefully before adding “You asked about my First Officer. I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you, if he hadn't suffered _most_ of that damage.” And there it was again. For a fleeting moment, her eyes widened, revealing something akin to agony, before she regained her equanimity, her eyes never leaving Jim's.

“Unfortunate. Had he chosen his loyalties more wisely, he could have been spared his predicament.”

An officer standing behind her signalled her discreetly and she turned her back to the screen. When she faced Jim again, he thought he could spot the tiniest bit of nervousness in her demeanour, although she spoke in the same unwavering, absolute tone.

“Captain, I have to get to the point. It is likely that Klingon vessels are approaching this area. You see, your sensors aren’t completely inaccurate. What you are scanning is a neutered Klingon spy ship. You will meet the same fate unless you surrender your vessel. As a token of my gratitude for your generous treatment, I will release your crew at the earliest convenience. I am certain you will get no such offer from the Klingons. Even your First Officer..”

Jim had held perfectly still while the Romulan commander spoke but at the mention of Spock he must have grimaced, because she paused for a moment and cocked her head, eyeing him inquisitively.

“If our readings of his vital status are correct, our medics might be able to save him. I am offering you a win, Captain. You can choose to resist but we both know how this is going to end for your ship in it’s present condition.” She smiled a beautiful, savage smile. “Face it, Captain Kirk. Even if you succeed in taking us down with you, the Enterprise will remain in Romulan space. It is up to you whether she will be intact or in vestiges, along with all of its crew.”

She was formidable, Jim had to give her that. There was something so overt and passionate about her ambitiousness, something so unabashed in her lusting after his ship, that he recognised a sort of kindred spirit in her. He had met two Romulan commanders, so far; both seemed like they could have become his friends in another reality. But in this one, she was no friend. She was a strong, accomplished, clever starship commander, standing on the opposite side, probably willing to say or do anything to obtain a victory.

Be that as it may, there was one thing she had said in particular that he hadn’t expected to hear. Not the Klingon part, Klingon - Romulan relations were always volatile, especially this close to their shared border. It wasn’t the part about destroying his ship, either. Threats did not penetrate his adrenaline fuelled armour. But she had said they were able to _save_ _Spock_. In this whole lamentable situation, it was wholly inconsequential if she was lying about the neutral zone, the Klingons or her intentions to spare the crew . The only thing he really considered, the only thing he _needed_ her to be honest about was the bit about Spock. Eyes fixed on the Romulan’s face, constantly scanning her expressions, he took a deep breath. He spoke slowly, aware that every second he wasted was bringing the Enterprise closer to warp speed.

“It saddens me we are on opposite sides, you seem a commander after my own heart. But the fact remains that we are pitted against each other and my unusual circumstances put me at a disadvantage. So unfortunately, my decision comes down to whether I choose to _believe_ what you’re saying”

She shook her head, laughing. “Your decision, Captain, comes down to whether you want to _save_ your crew”

“And there, Commander, is where you almost got me. Because I _do_ want to save my crew. But you claim Romulan doctors will save a Vulcan whom Federation doctors can’t. A man whose execution you personally ordered. And _that_ makes me think that everything else you told me is a lie as well” He saw _something_ flicker in her eyes again. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t hatred or defiance. It read like sadness, disappointment.

“How regrettable, Captain, that your logical process isn’t up to par with your Vulcan comrade’s. The common ancestry of Romulans and Vulcans is no secret. And you should know _warriors_ would be far more skillfull in treating _war wounds_ ”

She fell silent rather abruptly, as if she had said too much. Jim, however, wasn't paying that much attention to her words. He knew he couldn’t rely on them any more than he could on his own ship’s sensors, apparently. The only thing he could rely on at this point was his gut feeling as she was speaking. And his gut feeling was hinting at something positively disturbing. Taking another deep breath, he made another gambit.

“Commander, a decision of this nature requires me to confer with my senior staff. You’ll have my answer within an earth hour.” 

She seemed to think for a moment. Jim could hear his heartbeat pounding on his temples.“Your populist approach to command is perplexing, Captain. I will grant you an hour. Provided, of course, the Klingons don’t arrive before that”, she added pointedly before she disappeared in a bleep.

Jim turned to Botero, who had been frantically checking her instruments and issuing directions to the Science officers. “Miss Botero?” Her nonplussed expression was an answer in itself.

“Captain, every diagnostic on the circuitry so far comes back normal. If what they say is true, then the issue could be in the sensors’ components. Either that or we haven’t really understood the extent of the alien’s damage, sir”

“If there is a hardware problem in the navigational sensors, how can we find that out?”

“We can’t, sir. Not until we can get someone on the hull for manual diagnostics.”

“I see. Their readings must indicate the structural damage we have and our shield and power status, is that right?”

“Yes, sir”, Sulu answered.

“So there’s no way they know we have scrambled circuits all over our systems?

“None that we know of, sir”, Botero said.

“So, she's probably not lying. That would be an insane bluff for anyone to pull. We probably _did_ enter the neutral zone.”

Sulu nodded in stern agreement and turned to Jim. “Captain, if we fire all phaser banks and manage to hit them with the photon torpedoes once-”

“I’m aware of that, Mr Sulu. But we must assume we’ve violated the treaty. They’ve probably informed their superiors. The last thing we need to do is start a war. We must stall until we get the warp engines on and then try to get the hell out of here. Since our navigational logs haven’t registered the intrusion, Starfleet won’t need to take the Romulans at their word, like we do now.”

“Agreed, sir.”

“I trust you’ll compensate for the sensors’ failure by using star charts for navigation?”

“Keptin, we’ll get her to Federation Space if we have to use an astrolabe”, Chekov cut in.

Jim smiled in spite of himself.

“Any idea how far into the neutral zone we’ve drifted?”

Botero and Chekov both opened their mouths and promptly closed them. Then they spoke at the same time, creating a hubbub of numbers and terms that to Jim’s ears translated into a measured, cold “Insufficient data”. If he wasn’t sorely missing his First Officer and a lot of crucial answers, he might even be amused. Funny how he used to loathe that phrase coming out of Spock’s mouth, because of its affiliation with trouble. He’d give just about anything to hear it now, even if it meant all the trouble in the galaxy. He was coming down from his adrenaline trip and he scolded himself for grieving Spock alive. On his way to the Engineering deck Uhura shot him a peculiar glance but he pretended not to notice.

* * *

As soon as he entered the room Scotty called to him, a wide grin on his face. At that point hearing “The dilithium crystals have turned to jellyfish” would have surprised him less.

“It’s done, Captain. Half an hour to full power!”

“Scotty, I..”

“Captain, not a second less! And don’t even _mention_ a full power restart!” His smile gave way to indignation.

Jim never intended to ask anything of the sort. A full power restart would be impossible with half the systems haphazardly patched and working only on manual override. It would also be impossible without Spock making all the necessary computations. Jim was starting to hate this “Find the missing Spock” game his mind was playing with every single thing.

“Scotty, Scotty! All I wanted to say was “good job”,” he smiled.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll make some wee adjustments and head to the bridge.”

“Need a hand? I can’t sit idly and-”

“Of course, sir.”

Relief had made Scotty chipper and fresh. Jim, on the other hand, felt a thousand years old. Solving the engine problem by no means solved the Spock problem. He still had to get him to Vulcan _fast_ and that was a wish not even Scotty the Mighty Miracle Worker could grant.The Romulan commander’s words were circling his thoughts like hungry vultures above a wounded animal. Jim kept replaying their encounter, thinking about what his intuition was telling him, then juxtaposing it with facts. She was a Romulan. A high-ranking officer from a proud warrior race, whom they had deceived. She was also a fierce, passionate woman, whom Spock had seduced and duped. Jim hadn’t asked for the particulars of their exchange but it was obvious they had shared a connection. And Vulcans didn’t fake their connections.

In the past four-something years Jim had observed Spock strike up brief relations with women on several occasions. Very few (if any) of those had been of his free Vulcan will; what's more, Jim felt Vulcans and humans probably had disparate definitions of free will. At any rate, he knew he would never see a sober Spock head over heels over anybody the way he’d seen most of his shipmates, himself included. But he’d also noticed how his friend’s reserved, mindful ways granted an air of exotic substantiality to the briefest of flings and he’d been, for lack of a better term, _fascinated_ by them.His elegant, dignified presence was always arresting, his conversation never void of meaning. Regardless of the situation, Jim very often found himself gravitating towards Spock. Of course, on-duty Spock was an exceptionally intelligent, adept and loyal officer. And off-duty Spock was a mighty chess opponent and an endlessly insightful conversationalist. Not to mention the only challenging hand-to-hand combat partner. But it was more than that. There was something about him, something special, captivating, something that Jim couldn’t name but suspected had to do with his peculiar combination of ancestries and the manner in which Spock represented each one.

Jim recognised his partiality to his friend might be clouding his judgement but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Romulan commander wasn’t blind to Spock's qualities. That she had been affected by him more deeply than she herself might know. Jim had to remind himself that it truly didn’t matter, as he had no intention of surrendering his entire crew to the whims of a Romulan. But the nagging thought was there and, hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop feeling that figuring this out was somehow important. Absorbed in his thoughts and automated handiwork, he was startled to hear Uhura’s voice from the intercom. Her tone was urgent.

“Bridge to Captain Kirk! Bridge to Captain Kirk!”

He jumped to his feet and rushed to the nearest panel. Most of the engineering crew stopped whatever they were doing and looked his way.“Kirk here.”

“Captain, please report to Sickbay. Doctor McCoy says it’s urgent.”

And just like that, the adrenaline was back. Jim dashed to Sickbay, bracing himself to hear the worst, while his entire existence fanatically honked NO on repeat. Officers moved out of the way visibly alarmed but he didn’t even notice. He entered Sickbay panting, his heart about to jump out through his mouth and practically fell on McCoy, who grabbed both his arms and looked at him sombrely.

"Is he..?"He couldn’t finish his sentence. The doctor's expression didn’t change.

"His life readings are dropping, Jim. I think it’ll be any minute now."

Jim’s knees turned to pulp. He staggered to the isolated chamber, McCoy firmly holding his arm. M’Benga was already in there and the decontamination chamber doors were wide open. Apparently there was no need for protective equipment any more.

Spock lay on the biobed, motionless but for the faint lift of his chest. They had exhausted the tissue regenerator on him and he looked in better shape now than he had a few hours ago. That made it even harder for Jim to come to terms with the fact that he was deteriorating. He glanced at Bones for approval before he reached to touch Spock’s hand. Even through the bandages, it was strikingly warm. Jim’s whole being was protesting the notion that Spock’s warm, soft hand should soon turn cold and stiff.

He replayed in his mind the last time they had spoken. They had just pinpointed the alien’s location at the engine room and hastened to stop it before its weapon got to work on the warp core and the Enterprise went up in a trillion blazing particles. Jim had mostly stumbled his way there with Spock supporting him. Spock was largely immune to the weapon’s effect on the human brain and even though Jim had been one of the last to succumb, he was losing his grip on reality fast. Outside of the engineering room entrance, he’d turned to Spock in an attempt to formulate an attack plan. The last thing he remembered before Spock nerve pinched him to oblivion was a soft “ _I’m sorry, Captain_ ”. He wondered now if Spock had known he might not come out of this alive. He wondered if he had said anything else while Jim was knocked out cold.

He had come to, amidst smoke and confusion, after the explosion had wiped out the alien and its effect on people’s brains. At first, he could hardly control his limbs as he lurched into the engineering room, calling for Spock. Jim winced as he remembered again how unreal it had felt, how horrifying and helpless. He remembered how Spock had tried to speak to him right before he lost consciousness, how it felt like he was trying to tell him something important. He couldn’t accept now that he'd never find out what that was. And he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye. Not with only a few months remaining on the mission. Not after they had cheated death so many times. _Not to Spock_.

“Jim, I’m sorry… We…there’s nothing else we could do.”McCoy’s eyes were wet. Something in his words pulled Jim out of his trance. A terrible idea had been forming in the back of his mind for some time and his instinct suddenly took the helm.

“Doctor M’Benga, you worked for years on Vulcan, correct?”

“Yessir, but-”

“Did you ever learn anything about Romulan biology?” Bewildered, they both turned to face him. Jim’s eyes were fixed on Spock. 

“Sir?”

“I’m asking if, with your training, you could treat a Romulan patient?”

M’Benga was looking lost but McCoy’s eyes had narrowed and were eating Jim. He paid them no attention whatsoever.

“I’ve no training, sir. All I know comes from apocryphal library entries and the occasional chat with Vulcan healers. And there was _a lot_ they didn’t share with me.”

“That's not what I asked. Answer me to the best of your ability.”

“Jim! Are you outta your damn mind?”, McCoy burst but Jim ignored him.

“Answer me, Doctor.”

“Vulcans and Romulans have common ancestry. Their blood is green, their anatomy probably similar. I suppose I’d be… better suited to treat a Romulan than someone who hasn’t worked with Vulcans at all. But that’s all I can say, sir.”

“Thank you, Doctor, that’s sufficient. Dismissed”. M’Benga side-glanced at McCoy and then left the room. Something unhinged danced in Jim’s eyes and the doctor saw it. 

"Jim! Don’t even tell me you’re thinking about handing him over to those devils.”

“What other option is there, Bones?”, Jim muttered, eyes fixated on Spock’s chest.

“That’s not an _option_ , Jim, it’s madness! They might finish him off, torture him, _experiment on him_ , for God’s sake! Even if they _could_ save him, then what? He’d be a prisoner for life.”

“Well, here he’ll just be _dead_ ”, Jim offered harshly but his voice was cracking. “Won’t he?”

McCoy lowered his gaze to Spock. He drew a slow breath and put his arm on Jim’s shoulder. “Yes. And I don’t believe it’s a matter of location, Jim. I think your feelings for him prevent you from seeing the facts." McCoy took another deep breath.“Jim, you have to let him go.”

Jim lifted his eyes to meet McCoy’s. Tears were streaking his face and his eyes spoke even before he opened his mouth.

“I can’t, Bones _"_

He squeezed Spock’s hand once more and rushed out of the room shouting "I’ll be back in a minute. Keep him alive, that’s an order!"He was out of Sickbay before McCoy could reply. He turned to Spock morosely.

“Did ya get that? Stay alive, Captain’s orders.”

Over the years, McCoy had lost many patients and a few friends. Being a doctor, he was no stranger to the awful business of standing over a deathbed but now his composure had all but melted away. He sat down beside Spock, laying an awkward hand on his arm.

“Spock, I..ah..I don’t know if you can hear me”, he said timidly. His voice echoed around the chamber, reminding him that maybe he really was speaking to himself.“I know I always chewed you out about your logic but that dumb idiot is fixin’ to do something so foolish and emotional, that I’d love some of it right now. God knows we _need_ it.” He inhaled deeply. “You know… he’s gonna lose it without you.”

An alarm flickered slightly and the doctor looked up worried. No change but for the slow, steady drop of functions. They were all so close to zero now. He chuckled miserably.“Hell, I might lose it, too. I just thought you lifted an eyebrow through that alarm”.

The Sickbay door opened again and Jim stormed in with four security guards.

* * *

As he entered the Bridge, Jim could actually feel the electricity coursing through his nerves. The crew turned their heads towards him. They knew McCoy wouldn’t ask for him urgently unless something _really_ bad had happened but no one wanted to be the one to ask. Jim ignored them. He walked purposefully towards the helm and checked the ship clock. Then he sat on his chair, his mind perfectly focused, once more riding on the adrenaline wave.

“Lieutenant Uhura, silence the red alert. Open hailing frequencies.”

“… Aye, sir.”

The Romulan Commander appeared on the screen, a bemused smile on her beautiful face.“Captain-”

“Excuse me, Commander, but I have to get to the point, because I’m running out of time. And soon you will be, too. You see, I've been stalling all this time, trying to fix our engines. But our engines are damaged beyond repair and our reserve power is almost depleted. So, even if we did surrender, you would be boarding a dead vessel.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How disappointing. I thought we had moved beyond childish artifice.”

“Unfortunately we have, Commander. It was childish of me to hope we could escape. As it was of you to think we would surrender. Luckily for _you_ , there is another option. Mister Scott!”

“Aye.”

“Eject escape pod number five. Mister Sulu, drop cargo shields enough for it to go through.” The entire bridge shared curious glances but nonetheless Scotty and Sulu carried out his orders instantly. 

“Pod ejected, sir”

“Commander, I believe you can pick up life readings on the pod we just jettisoned. You will find them to match a very injured Vulcan.” He didn’t need to hear her answer. The look she shared with her officer told Jim more than enough. The bridge crew froze in their seats.

“Bold, Captain! Throwing your First Officer as bait to trick us into lowering our shields.” She spoke coldly but Jim could sense a trace of doubt, similar to the one that had festered in him and ultimately led him to play the wildest hunch of his life. And that tiny shadow of doubt was all he needed to go on.

“Commander, I am offering us both a win. You get the chance to walk away with _something_ , instead of _nothing_. And I get to die knowing I saved my friend’s life. You can return to Romulus with the finest First Officer in Starfleet. Or you can stay here and die with us. Computer, tie in. Commence self-destruct sequence, emergency authorisation override.”

The computer repeated the order in her monotone voice, asking for identification. Bridge officers, generally the cream of the professional crop, now couldn’t help exchanging astonished glances among them. 

“You’re bluffing, Captain. We are not lowering our shields.” she shouted.

Jim shook his head. “I’ve been known to bluff but not to be needlessly hostile, Commander. We will not fire upon you. _Computer,_ this is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. Destruct sequence one- Code two- three B _.”_

The computer bleeped cheerfully for a while. The Romulan Commander’s face was a stony mask of contempt.

“What a pathetic display. Irreparable damage, such as you claim, would render self destruct mechanisms inoperative. Accept your fate with dignity, Captain.”, she said. The computer left no time for Jim to answer.

" _Emergency authorisation voice and sequence verified and correct_ ”

“Believe it or not, at her present condition, it took all we had to _keep_ _her_ from blowing up.” Jim said bitterly. In a sense, he wasn't entirely lying; stopping a warp core breach had almost taken Spock's life.

_“Destruct sequence completed and engaged. Awaiting final code for sixty second countdown”_

“Code one one zero. Destruct. zero.Commander, you need approximately 25 seconds to get to a safe distance. Isn’t that right, Lieutenant Botero?”

“Umm…yes, sir. 23.7” she added hesitantly.

“You’re lying, Captain”, the commander hissed.

“Take your chances, Commander.”

_“Destruct sequence is activated”_

The deafening self destruct siren obscured the Romulan Commander’s orders but “Fire” was heard loud and clear. The twin beams of light emitted from the battle cruiser shone blindingly bright for a second before they landed on the front shields. The bridge shook violently.

“Front shields at seventy percent, no stations report significant damage.”

“Thank you, Mister Sulu. Commander, it seems we’ll go out on our own terms”, Jim said with a harsh smile.

 _“Forty five seconds to self destruct”_ the computer spoke right on cue.

“I repeat, I am offering you a win. You have less than twenty seconds.” The Romulan Commander’s eyes locked with Jim’s. He could read a lot in those eyes. She was set on getting the Enterprise and more than interested in saving Spock. Jim, of course, was infinitely more dogged on both those fronts. But there was something else in her expression, as well. Something that Jim had spotted from the beginning of their conversation but could never quite put a finger on. Now, suddenly and for a few seconds, he believed he'd deciphered it, that they had come to an understanding. 

_“Thirty, twenty-nine..”_

“Lower dorsal shield, beam the Vulcan up,” she ordered, never taking her eyes from Jim. And, just like that, it was done. Spock was aboard the Romulan vessel. The momentary triumph was quickly overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of merciless finality. Spock _really_ was aboard a Romulan vessel and there was absolutely nothing Jim could do any more to retrieve him.

_“Twenty-seven, twenty-six..”_

"I may be overestimating your bluffing skills, Captain. But I underestimated your feelings for him", she said. She was almost smiling. 

_“Twenty-four”_

“Obtain safe distance, maximum speed.” And with the slightest of nods, she disappeared from their viewscreen. The battle cruiser left at dizzying speed.

_“Twenty-two”_

"Computer, abort self destruct sequence, Jim said and the monotone voice replied _“Sequence and countdown aborted”_

The blaring alarms stopped all at once and the Bridge suddenly turned very, very silent. The crew was beyond feigning discreet professionalism. They were staring square at Jim, expressions ranging from perplexed to shocked. Jim, on the other hand, was staring dead ahead at the empty space. Scotty was the first to break the silence.

“Captain..”

Jim shook his head as if waking from a dream. He got up and looked at the clock.“Mr Scott, I trust the power should be back online in a few seconds.”

“That’s…Aye, sir.”

“Prepare to warp us the hell out of here. Mister Chekov, try to plot a course for Starbase 234.”

“Uh..Yes, sir.”

Jim was still staring right ahead, face stiff and brow furrowed. Everyone was still frozen, glancing at each other and the Captain in turns, unsure of what exactly had transpired. This time it fell to Botero, who had been absorbed in her instruments for the majority of the incident, to break the awful awkwardness. 

“Captain! A Klingon vessel just appeared well within sensor range!”

Jim jumped from his seat and looked to the screen. He was almost relieved. “So that was true, as well”, he said, partly to himself. “No sensor malfuction, I take it?”

“Negative, sir. They appear to have been cloaked.”

“Good heavens, does _every ship_ but ours in this galaxy use a cloaking device?”, grumbled Scotty. “Engines are back online, sir, ready when you are”

“Make a break for it, Mister Sulu, maximum warp.”

The hum of the engines coming back to life from deep within the ship’s body and the sudden jolt of jumping to warp speed were welcomed with a degree of enthusiasm amid the unease that had settled over the bridge. At least _something_ was right. “Distance increasing rapidly, sir. The Klingon vessel does not appear to be in pursuit.”, Sulu said.

They were finally moving. Away from the neutral zone, away from whatever the Klingons were looking for, away from the Romulans. _And away from Spock_. Jim was becoming more aware of that by the moment. He tried to shove it under the usual rug, but it proved too heavy to move, too bulky to conceal and too painful to ignore.

His thoughts started tumbling down a path that was getting steeper and steeper, gaining momentum, accelerating by the second and heading directly towards the edge of a cliff. With nothing to hold on to, Jim was starting to perceive a void extending in all directions beyond that cliff. A dark, hungry, unforgiving void that threatened to swallow him for all days to come. And the closer he got, the more mesmerised he became by the sheer volume of emptiness. It was terrifying and breathtaking at the same time. A part of him was clawing and grasping, desperate to stop the impending fall. Another part was already at the bottom. Logical Kirk and Emotional Kirk. Strong Kirk and Weak Kirk. It didn’t really matter, even combined, it felt like they couldn’t make a whole Kirk right now. He was almost at the edge when a hand on his shoulder jerked him back.His eyes slowly refocused. A different, familiar kind of void was extending before him in the viewscreen. Beautiful and serene but a void nonetheless. McCoy was standing next to him.

“Jim, you are one crazy son of a gun.”

There was no judgement in his voice. At the moment Jim was completely unable to offer any defence for himself and the doctor knew it. At any other time, he might have told him “I really hope you know what you’re doing” or “If that ain’t a clusterfuck, I don’t know what is”. But the doctor knew better. What was done was done. Spock’s fate was out of their hands, if it ever was in them to begin with. They had all lived to fight another day and that was mostly on Jim. And if, by some crazy chance, Spock also lived to fight another day, that would be on Jim, too. The doctor also knew that the burden of command was heavy, but fitted for one man’s shoulders. The burden of guilt and loss didn’t have to be.

“You know…that crazy stunt you pulled back there, it just might work.”

Jim didn’t reply. McCoy’s hand remained firmly on his shoulder, tethering him to a reality he didn’t particularly enjoy, but infinitely preferred to his inner turmoil.

“So, did the destruct sequence work?”, the doctor ploughed on and Jim finally found his words again and nodded. “It did.”

“Captain, I’ve been meaning to ask… what in the devil’s name was that sequence?”, Scotty finally said.

“Mr Scott, I believe you remember that unpleasant business with the last two remaining citizens of Cheron a few months ago.”

“Aye, Captain. But we did activate the destruct sequence back then!”

“And we would do it again, if we had to. But that whole affair gave Spock the idea to program a harmless destruct sequence simulation for... diplomatic purposes.”

“You mean he programmed you a bluffing prop?, Sulu blurted before he could stop himself.

“Why? Would you put it past him, Sulu?” McCoy butt in.

A few smiles broke out in the bridge. Some release of tension had been desperately needed. But they all faded rather quickly. Normally, that was the point where Spock would offer a snarky justification for this particular course of action. But instead of that, there was silence. The crew were not strangers to the numbing combination of relief intermixed with grief that sometimes accompanied their job. Although it was never easy, this one hit them particularly hard. Not only because Spock was a dear friend and a valuable shipmate but also because they already sensed the effect this would have on their captain. The air in the bridge was heavy. Jim sat slumped in his command chair, lost in thoughts that nobody envied. Everyone was going through the motions, but their antennae were tuned to Jim. Most of them wanted to say something but either couldn’t think of something constructive or couldn’t bring themselves to say it. Funnily, had Spock simply been dead, this might have been easier. But now Spock’s condition was like the cat of Schrödinger, a painful philosophical quandary none of them were equipped to solve, plagued as it was by insufficient data. After all, the man who usually had all the data was missing and the one who usually solved the quandaries was beginning to fall apart.

“Jim, would you come with me to Sickbay? There’s uh.. some things I need to go over with you,” Bones spoke when the silence had once more become unbearable.

Jim came out of his stupor again. He glanced around, thankful that everyone pretended not to pay attention.“Of course. Mister Chekov, how’s navigation going so far?”

“We’ll manage, sir. The star charts correspond to sensor readings with minimal deviations. We are positively in Federation space.”

“In that case, Miss Botero, sensor repairs can wait until we arrive at the Starbase. How long will that be?”

“2.8 solar days, sir.”

“Very well. Remain shielded at all times. Sulu, you have the conn.”

A surge of relief coursed through the Bridge. The captain wasn’t completely broken. As he was walking out with the doctor, Jim noticed Uhura’s puffy eyes.

“Oh, I forgot. Miss Uhura, arrange for a shift to relieve you all at the earliest possible convenience. We’ve all been through a lot.”

“Aye, Captain… Thank you”, she smiled.

"Thank _you",_ he muttered before hastily entering the turbolift. He followed McCoy to the doctor’s quarters, only realising they were not headed to Sickbay when the doctor nudged him to a chair. Jim complied without a word. Frankly, he was thankful he’d be spared the awful smell of Sickbay and he didn’t feel particularly willing (or able) to perform the more mundane of his duties . The doctor headed to the replicator and produced two bowls of steaming soup.“Eat up”, he ordered.

“Bones, I’m not really-”

“And I’m not really interested”, McCoy snapped. “My stomach’s a knot, too. But we’ll both have some god damned soup, because that’s what us humans have to do to remain alive.”

For a while, they ate in silence. The warm concoction was tastier than Jim felt he deserved and he ate more than he expected. McCoy was eyeing him every now and then and the minute Jim put his spoon down, he bust out two small glasses and a bottle of a scarily green liquid.“Good. Now drink up.”

The smell of alcohol burnt Jim’s nostrils and his stomach turned. “Do you really think that’s a good idea, Bones?”

“Well, today’s been a day for _original thinking_ , Jim. Consider that my contribution”, the doctor said softly.

Jim took a shallow sip and was surprised when he didn’t hurl.

“To the best captain in the Fleet”, McCoy toasted.

Jim scoffed miserably as he lifted his glass. “To the worst liar to ever get a medicine degree” He downed his glass and buried his head in his hands, before McCoy could give him a piece of his mind.

 _“What have I done, Bones?”,_ he whispered.

The doctor didn’t miss a beat.“You did what a Captain does, Jim. You saved the Enterprise and her crew.”

“I gave Spock to the Romulan Empire, Bones. I _handed_ _him over_ to the enemy.” 

“You trusted your _gut_. You know your gut’s been right more times than some people’s reasoning.”

“ _What if that’s the one time I was wrong_? The time I staked Spock’s life on a hunch” Jim's words made McCoy flinch, but he had lost one friend today and he really didn't feel like losing another. 

“Listen, kid. I don’t think any other Captain would have done what you did today. Some would have fought and lost, some fought and won, maybe starting a war in the process. Some would have run and been destroyed, some would have run and succeeded. Hell, some might have even surrendered or really blown themselves up. Few would have pulled that stunt and made the Romulans run away first and absolutely _no one_ would have handed their First Officer to the Romulans. “

“Bo-”

“Shut up! Self - flagellation really cramps your style. I admit, I found your gamble insane. But if you hadn’t done it, we’d be arranging Spock’s funeral right now. And the more I think about it, the more I believe he might pull through. And if he does, Jim, you know that pesky bastard will find a way back to us, if only to chastise your ill logic. The truth is, you were presented with a clear cut no-win scenario and you came as close to winning as humanly possible. You may have even won. And that’s why you’re the best captain in the entire god damned Fleet, hunches, gambles, doubts and all. 

A no-win scenario, Jim repeated in his mind. Kobayashi Maru really did come back to bite him in the ass, after all. And what a bite it took, too. He thought about all the times he’d cheated his way to victory, after that initial run-in with unavoidable defeat. He had gotten so arrogant that he believed it would always be like this and got his comeuppance in the most vicious of ways. The doctor was probably right. Logically speaking, he’d done the best he could with a shitshow of a situation. Then how come this really didn’t feel like even half a win? McCoy snapped his fingers if front of Jim's nose, bringing him back.

“Gimme your glass, kiddo. I wouldn’t advise spending the next 2.8 solar days or so drunk out of your wits but a few more are doctor-prescribed”.


	4. Chapter 4

It was approximately 0300 hours Standard Ship Time, when the Enterprise finally came within viewing distance of Starbase 234. Uhura, along with everybody else on the bridge, breathed a bit more freely for the first time in a week. The short trip, though uneventful, had not been exactly easy. Navigation required constant verifications, engineering needed twice the personnel performing every task manually and many officers were still recovering from minor but annoying injuries. Also, the captain was not the same person anymore.

The only instances she had seen him come out of his quarters were to work his two shifts. During that time, he’d been as competent and thorough as ever but, apart from command orders, his conversation had been scant and half-hearted. The change from joviality to wretchedness was so stark it affected the air around him. The entire bridge, already much more solemn than usual, turned heavy with silent unease the moment Jim walked in. And Uhura wasn't alone in thinking that, in Jim's presence, Spock’s absence was felt even more keenly. She had been meaning to invite him to lunch or dinner one of these days but, as soon as his shifts were over, he would disappear from the bridge without a moment’s delay. Uhura could see the tremendous effort it took for him to appear professional and she feared it would cause him further discomfort to either indulge or deny her proposal. Nonetheless, she felt an overwhelming need to let him know that she was hurting _with_ him as well as _for_ him and that, controversial as they were, she trusted his instincts as much as ever. They all did.

“At long last”. Sulu smiled broadly when he finally saw the planet's surface appear in detailed glory on the external viewscreen. “Proceed at one quarter impulse speed. Uhura, notify the captain.”  
“Bridge to Captain Kirk. Come in, Captain”, she used her softest voice, the one she woke up her little nieces with. His response was instantaneous. Of course he wasn’t sleeping. “We're almost at the Starbase, Captain.”  
“Request permission to dock, Lieutenant. I’m on my way.”

It was convenient that the nearest Starbase was a planetary one. Repairs would be extensive and shore leave was long overdue and always better taken on an actual planet than a space station. Starbase 234 was not famed for its recreational facilities but, at times like these, even Vulcan seemed like an attractive destination. Kirk arrived at the Bridge at the same time as the response from the Starbase officer.

“Spacedock to USS Enterprise. Permission to dock granted. Welcome Enterprise!” a friendly voice filled the bridge.

“This is Captain James Kirk. It’s good to see you”, he said wearily.

“Likewise, Captain. Planetside facilities are ready to accommodate you, we understand you will be beaming most personnel down for shore leave”

“I’m afraid we won’t be beaming anyone anywhere, until we get the transporters back to working order. Our Chief Engineer, Mr Scott, will send you a list of materials necessary to commence repairs. Will you be able to deliver them by shuttlecraft?”

“Affirmative. Sorry to hear that, Captain. I’ll inform Commodore Lance of the delay.”

“Commodore vat now?” Chekov whispered to Sulu, who rolled his eyes. There had never been an instance, at least with the Enterprise, when the presence of a Commodore in the general vicinity made things better. On the contrary, it almost always meant trouble. Or at the very least, great annoyance.

Jim dealt Scotty a concerned look and Scotty returned it amplified. Uhura didn't miss the interaction but she didn't know who Commodore Lance was. Had she known, she would undoubtedly be able to read it for what it meant: " _What is that spineless brown-noser doing so far away from headquarters? And how did he make Commodore without clocking any field time?_ " " _By God, S_ _tarfleet Command sometimes scrapes the bottom of the barrel_ ".

“Gilbert Lance? I was not aware of his presence here.”, Jim said quite casually. 

“Yes, sir. He was assigned here six months ago, due to increased Klingon activity. He’s been rather anxious for your arrival.”

“I see. Stand by to receive engineering requests. Kirk out.” Jim walked up to Uhura and Scotty. He looked annoyed.

“Well, that can’t be good!”, Scotty exclaimed. “If that’s the same Lance I knew at the Academy, he wouldn’t be dragged _dead_ so far away from the corridors of power. Or so close to the bloody Klingon - Romulan border.”

“Unfortunately, you're not wrong. At least not if there isn't something in it for him” Jim muttered quietly. The day was too young to bad-mouth a Commodore loudly.

“I just hope he’s not expecting a ride, Captain. He’s gonna be _very_ disappointed.” Scotty said with a smile.

“Never mind him, Mr Scott" Jim said. "Take your time, double check _everything_. No one is to beam down before it’s one hundred percent safe. Uhura, if it seems like it should take too long, form parties to transport via shuttle. Give priority to crew whose condition warrants medical leave. Consult Nurse Chapel for a list of names.”

Uhura was way ahead of him. “Sir, I already have that information and Scotty thinks it might take more than a day to fix one transporter. Should I alert them?”

The Captain looked surprised. "Of course you have, Miss Uhura. Forgive me, sometimes I forget how exceptional you all are at your jobs. Notify them. I’ll be in my quarters, though I doubt you'll need me", he said sweetly and once more disappeared, before Uhura had time to ask him if _he_ needed anything. She sighed and turned to her station, while Scotty gave her the tape with his equipment requests and a kind smile. 

"Give him time, lass"

* * *

The transporter turned out to be the trickiest repair so far. Two days, nine partially dematerialised objects and upwards of twenty enquiries to Uhura later, Commodore Lance finally decided to board a supply shuttlecraft and join them on the Enterprise. And it was just as good, because his pestering had almost driven her to board a shuttlecraft herself and go on shore leave early. However, Uhura had opted to remain on the ship, same as most of her closest friends. At the moment, the Enterprise felt like a broken home; she looked the part, too. But if they remained close to each other, they could start patching her (and hopefully each other) up.

Now, with the Commodore arriving they could finally get that briefing he’d been requesting out of the way and move on to more important things. And the inconvenience of his presence would at least force Jim out of his room. Uhura hadn’t seen him since they’d docked, although he was definitely still on the ship. After working with him for four and a half years, she believed she knew him pretty well. Undoubtedly, he didn’t confide in her as he did in the doctor but Jim Kirk didn’t exactly need words to communicate emotion. Neither did she. And, to people who knew Jim, what was happening to him was pretty disturbing. Through the years, Uhura had seen him lose his brother, his youth, his command, his sanity and an odd number of girlfriends. She had seen him anxious, sorrowful, furious, terrified, lovesick, hurt and she’d been endlessly impressed with his ability to bounce back, as if he drew vitality and optimism from a bottomless well within him. The one thing she had never seen him lose was the spark in his eyes. Until now.

Right after their first common shift with Jim after the...well, Romulan incident, the bridge crew had spontaneously gathered in the officer’s mess. Despite their exhaustion, they had more need for each other's company (and a few drinks) than sleep. The previous week had trampled all over them and they were just beginning to straighten themselves up. It seemed like ages since they'd last been able to simply sit down and discuss something that wasn't work-related, an emergency or deeply sad. But, seeing as their work of late had been particularly trying, full of emergencies and deeply sad, that was impossible.

Sulu and Chekov had moaned about how frustrating navigation was without reliable sensors, Scotty about running a semi-automated ship almost entirely manually. Chapel, who might have worked the longest hours of all (except for Scotty), had complained about the Sickbay replicator giving out twice while producing bandages in bulk. Inevitably, the talk had drifted to the last few days, the attack on the colony, the alien, their blurry memories of losing control over their own minds, the few things they remembered seeing fellow officers do. Fuelled by alcohol and a general melancholy, they'd gone down a conversational rabbit hole that lead only to difficult topics. How close they had come to blowing up, again. How Spock had almost died saving them, again. How he might _actually_ be dead. At this exact point, the conversation had come to a grinding halt, because there was no way of knowing. And because the next subject had to be Jim. What he had done. How he was coping. Or, more accurately, how he probably wasn't.

The senior bridge officers were loyal to Jim almost to a fault. That being said, they weren't particularly reluctant to discuss their captain behind his back. In the past, they'd gossiped about his romantic conquests, made fun of his diet, analysed or even questioned some of his command choices, all in good taste and humour. But this was different. Discussing this felt somehow out of bounds, more personal, almost mutinous. Uhura however, wasn't one to shy away from uncomfortable topics, especially when they were important. She had broached the subject of Jim's condition hesitantly, half-expecting the others to scold her. Of course, everyone had instantly agreed with her. None of them had ever seen Jim like this before.

“Aye”, Scotty said, shaking his head. “Never thought I’d say this about the captain but this might finally break him”

“Well, _he did_ lose his closest friend”, Sulu said. “If that term applies”, he added in a small voice. No one seemed to notice.

"Only, he didn't exactly _lose_ him", said Uhura but then was unsure how to continue. How does one go about saying "He surrendered him to a pissed off Romulan and we may never learn his fate and Jim will have to somehow live with that"? Fortunately for her, they'd all figured out what she meant to say. 

"What could he have done?", Scotty asked after a few seconds of universal silence. His forehead painfully creased, he directed that question at nobody in particular. He didn't look like he expected an answer either but Chapel had one.

"M'Benga says that on the Enterprise he never stood a chance. Maybe on the Romulan ship he does." 

"And if he doesn't", Sulu said ponderously "maybe it's better not to know. That way we can always hope..", he stopped. Apparently he couldn't even start to convince himself. 

"Do you really believe that?", Uhura turned to him incredulously.

"No. Yes. I don't know. Frankly, I don't even want to _think_ about it. I just wish there was something we could do for Jim. If _I_ don't wan't to think about it, I can only imagine.." he stopped again. Scotty patted him on the back on his way to get his fifth scotch.

"I know, laddie", he sighed. "But I don't believe the words that'll fix a man's heart have been invented yet"

Sorrow and whiskey had turned Scotty into a poet. Chekov, on the other hand, had been sitting at the corner of the table all evening, silently downing shots of whichever spirit his friends were kind enough to replicate for him. Suddenly he opened his mouth. “There’s an old Russian saying”, he mused drunkenly.“Time heals all vounds”.

“Vulcan wounds are notoriously deep, Pavel. Trust me, I’m a Starfleet nurse”, Chapel said wistfully as she got up and raised her glass. "To healing. For Spock, for Jim, for all of us". 

They had remained around the table until well past their usual bedtime, remembering all kinds of stories from the past four-something years. It was a sort of unspoken tradition after the loss of a shipmate, to gather over drinks and share stories and memories of them. Over the years, he bridge crew had participated in too many such functions but this was, in some ways, a first. Whenever the gathering became too much like a memorial service, they had to remind themselves that Spock could be alive; if they got too hopeful, they were struck down by the notion that he might as well be dead or unable to join to them again. They'd stayed there, retelling stories for the hundredth time and making Uhura sing depressing songs to them and only left when they could barely rely on themselves to find their own quarters. They had parted with the promise to do anything in their power to help their captain, if only they figured out how. And if only the captain let them help.

Now, as she was making her way towards the Shuttlebay to receive the persistent Commodore, Uhura deliberately passed by Jim's quarters. She was determined to impose herself and accompany him. It would give her a chance to check up on him, maybe even offer some sort of comfort but Dr McCoy had beaten her to it by a few seconds. She stood outside of Jim’s open door, uncertain if she should make her presence known, in case she walked in on a private moment. 

"For God’s sake, Jim! You’ve spent four days staring at that monitor. It’s not going anywhere! Now, get a move on, that commodore of yours might throw a fit if he doesn’t find us waiting for him!" The doctor sounded animated. She had no time to dwell on that weird statement, as Jim and the doctor emerged from the door. They greeted each other silently and proceeded to the Shuttlebay without exchanging a single word. 

The shuttlecraft had just landed and Commodore Lance appeared from behind crates of supplies, in full dress uniform and sporting a fake congenial smile. It largely froze when he observed the receiving party. Not a single senior officer had thought to wear formal attire. In fact, most of them looked shabbier than usual, the captain included. Jim dispensed with the formalities rather hastily, too, extending him no more than the bare minimum of courtesies. The Commodore’s painted expression hardly concealed his disappointment. Uhura might not have met him before but she was enjoying this quite a bit. Commodore Lance looked like the kind of person who anticipated an applause anytime he entered a room.

“Is it me or does the Commodore look like he expected a brass band and a guided tour?”, she whispered into Scotty’s ear as Jim was leading the party to the conference room.  
“And a red carpet, too”, he scowled.

They had just settled in their seats when the Commodore rose and addressed them, making another attempt at superfluous geniality.  
“My dear Captain Kirk! Words cannot express what an exquisite honour it is to finally set foot on this marvellous vessel. I must say, it hardly looks like it has suffered the extensive damage you reported and that is, no doubt, a testament to your accomplished crew and yourself!”

 _What on earth was he mumbling about?_ The Enterprise looked every bit as messed up as she actually was. The dumbfounded glances exchanged by the officers were not lost on the Commodore but luckily, Jim didn’t let him continue.“It’s a shame you haven't seen her in proper shape, Commodore. Hopefully, Mr Scott will return her to her former glory soon.”

“Ah, of course. Mister Scott! I believe you were my student, during your brief stint on command track. I guess now is your chance to prove that your choice to go back to Engineering was the right one”, he laughed joylessly.  
Nobody joined him. If Scotty was bothered, he didn’t show it at all, staring dead ahead with a formal but distant expression. Jim, on the other hand, looked bothered enough for the two of them.

“Mr Scott’s service record _already_ speaks to that, Commodore. As does the fact that we are all standing on the Enterprise today, alive and well, after that last mission.”

“Oh yes, I understand there was an unfortunate casualty. May I offer my sincerest condolences, I always admired Mr Spock. He was quite the studious fellow.”

Everyone fell silent and the flying glances resumed once more. Jim’s expression was unreadable. It took Uhura a few seconds to comprehend what the Commodore was saying. While she had, on the captain's orders, reported to Starfleet that they had unintentionally entered the neutral zone, she hadn't included anything about Spock being handed over to the Romulans. Apparently, Jim hadn't either and, now that she thought about it, it made sense. What was he supposed to report? “Captain’s Log, supplemental: First Officer Mr Spock was gravely injured saving the Enterprise and her crew from the alien threat. Seeing no other alternative, I put him in a pod and surrendered him to a Romulan commander he had a fling with, in hopes that she might save him“. Of course, the ship’s logs would still have records of the missing pod and the exchange with the Romulans, assuming they weren’t damaged as well. But then again, all this could very easily be remedied in the course of the repairs. Uhura looked at Jim carefully. The lines under his eyes were deeper, his eyes dim. He looked tired, older even and she shuddered to think how difficult this must be for him. But there was something else about his look, worn out as it was, something as sharp as ever. McCoy's words drifted back to her and she started entertaining ideas too loose to become convictions, but strong enough to make her trust that Jim knew what he was doing.

“Thank you, Commodore. However, the report you received was _premature_. Commander Spock hasn’t been declared dead. He was in the course of repairing the ship’s sensors when we were attacked by a cloaked Romulan vessel. We had to go to red alert immediately and his pod was jettisoned. We have reasons to believe he was taken by the Romulan vessel.”

The Commodore’s eyes widened. Everybody else’s did too, but the Enterprise’s senior staff members had experienced enough of Kirk’s ploys to quickly subdue their surprise. “What do you mean, Captain Kirk? What _reasons_ do you have?” he asked. He seemed more irritated than curious or worried and that couldn't be good. 

“Shortly after Commander Spock's pod was jettisoned, the Romulan vessel lowered their deflector shields enough to let a tractor beam through. A while later, we picked up life signs aboard their vessel that corresponded to a Vulcan's. And after their departure, we conducted a phase one search for Mr Spock and were unable to locate him.” Jim lied with such a straight face that Uhura almost believed him. Commodore Lance stared at him enquiringly. As he processed the information, thin veins started to appear in his forehead and temples but his expression remained formal.

“Am I to understand that, at the time, you were trespassing on neutral territory?” he asked.

“Yes, our navigatio-”

“Which means that, inadvertently or not, you committed a violation of the treaty and an officer was taken prisoner, as a result?” Uhura flinched. Yes, this wasn't good.

“The violation was involuntary. We had no engines, no navigation, we committed no hostile acts!" Jim said strongly. "Starfleet has invested a lot in Commander Spock. I believe we should do everything in our power to bring him back.”

The Commodore's face was starting to get red. “Entering neutral space _was_ the hostile act, Captain! It’s true that Starfleet has invested a significant amount of money in your First Officer. He was, indeed, a great asset. But allow me to know that Starfleet has invested _a lot more_ in maintaining peace with the Romulan Empire. Our diplomatic relations are at an all-time low and your ship’s incursion is an additional aggravating factor. Now, if you’ll-”

“ _Spock is not just an asset, Commodore_ ", Jim said in a slow, intimidating voice."He is the son of the Vulcan Ambassador, possibly the best First Officer in the Fleet and a very dear friend to us all. Every effort to retrieve him through the proper channels is warranted. Starfleet Command will agree with me on this.” Jim's fists were getting white at the knuckles but his arms thankfully remained firmly at his sides.

The Commodore didn't bat an eyelash. “You are letting your personal affiliations cloud your judgement", he said matter-of-factly. "I regret that you need to be reminded of this but, since there is no Admiral in this sector, _I am_ Starfleet Command. And I have to say, I’m not even convinced that Mr Spock was indeed taken by the Romulans! You admittedly relied on compromised instruments providing fallible readings. Vulcan and Romulan life signs should look fairly similar. And forgive me, but I fail to see how a lowered shield should translate to all that you claim. Of course, it's very upsetting to lose such a competent crewman but you must understand. We simply cannot risk another diplomatic incident with the Romulans! If they were willing to overlook your _transgression_ , we shouldn't start enquiring about _prisoners_ because of some _questionable_ readings!”

The last sentence was spat contemptuously. His lips pursed, Jim seemed to be contemplating how many years he’d have to spend behind bars for assaulting a ranking officer. And then a voice came from someplace nobody expected.

“Commodore.. I..uh.. If I may say something, sir.” Lieutenant Botero, who had been staring at the floor so far, was looking straight at Commodore Lance. He was caught off guard, but regained his composure and smiled faintly. The politician in him sprung back to the surface.“My dear madame, I don’t believe I have made your acquaintance.”

“Lieutenant Reni Botero, sir. Acting Chief Science Officer, in Mr Spock’s absence”, she added rather pointedly but it didn't seem to bother Lance. Uhura sensed that the Commodore was more favourably disposed towards chatting with women, than listening to reason or displaying loyalty.

“Congratulations, my dear, on your promotion! Unfortunate though its circumstances may be, some younger blood is direly needed. You were saying?”

“With all due respect, sir, I have studied the sensors extensively in the past few days. By all accounts, the discrepancies between our sensors’ indications and the actual phenomena are minimal. The Captain’s claims are substanti-”

“Thank you, my dear, but I will have no more of this!", he waved his hand. "The reason I called for this meeting, apart from welcoming you, is to be briefed on your repairs. Once completed, you are to provide transportation for me and some rather fragile cargo to Starbase 507 in the Bolian Sector, where I am to assume command. It seems my services aren't required on this base anymore.”, he said lightheartedly.

Jim’s entire body tensed up and, if the Commodore didn’t notice, everyone else did. The Bolian sector was on the other side of the Beta Quadrant. Only a few days from Earth, far away from the Klingon- Romulan border and the nuisance it entailed. No wonder he was in such a rush to meet them.

“What about our remaining missions in this Sector?” Jim asked with remarkable calm. Lance extracted a tape from his pocket and placed it on the table.

“I received this message from Starfleet Headquarters a week ago. It allows me to use the first available Starfleet vessel, provided it is not operating under top priority commands. I've been made aware that you currently have no such orders, Captain”, he smiled.

“Retrieving an important Federation _asset_ , such as Commander Spock, comes pretty close to the definition of top priority for me, Commodore”, Jim said harshly.

“Captain Kirk, do not force me to file an official complaint for insubordination. Your so-called evidence sounds flimsy at best yet I will humour your absurdities one final time. Let us indeed assume that Mr Spock has been taken prisoner by the Romulans. If I know the first thing about them, _he is already dead"._

If Jim could fire laser beams from his eyes, the Commodore would have burned to a crisp. It was also becoming apparent that Jim had the same effect on Lance, that the Commodore seemed to have on everyone else in the room. He made one last effort to conceal his displeasure.

“Now, Mister Scott! Would you be so kind as to brief me on the repairs? When are you expecting to finish them?”

“It’s a wee bit early to say with any certainty, sir.” Scotty said with a naive half-smile. Uhura tried not to smile herself, because she knew what he was about to do.

“A close approximation will have to do, then”, Lance said through gritted teeth.

“I don't know, every single circuit needs to be replaced, the entire ship has to be tested for structural integrity! If I’m pushed, sir, I have to say, at least a month. Possibly even longer” Scotty said ingenuously. He was enjoying this immensely.

The Commodore was not and no amount of artifice could hide it. “One month! Do you plan to rebuild the ship from scratch?” he exploded.

Scotty remained cool as a cucumber.“You know, sir, that might be easier.”

“Are you pulling my leg, engineer?", Lance yelled. "How did you even get here, if the ship's in such a state?”

“We travelled with non-essential systems inoperative, everything else on manual control. That’s no way for a starship to go anywhere but the shipyard… Sir”, he added. His chest was swollen with elation but his face was as earnest as it got. Even Jim couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips.

“Gentlemen, I regret to say, your reputation so far seems largely unfounded", Lance said coldly. "I expect to be briefed on all developments. Miss Bandero, if you will grant me the honour of escorting me to your Shuttlebay, I will be taking my leave presently.”  
Botero got up, hiding her discomfort very adequately. Jim nodded slightly to her and she nodded back. Uhura made a mental note to invite her for a drink soon. They had shared some shifts before but never exchanged more than a few words. Of course, she was no Spock, but she’d make a good addition to the bridge. Not to mention she’d probably be amazing at poker. When enough seconds had passed after their departure, the doctor and Scotty turned their heads to face the closed door and simultaneously cried out.

“Son of a fucking bee-sting!”

“Scabby fuckin' arse!” 

“Gentlemen!” Jim smiled tiredly. “It was to be expected. That’s what happens when paper-pushers and politicians use Starfleet Command as a shortcut to power. That man has never been part of a crew.”

Jim seemed a lot more composed than he had a couple of minutes ago. Uhura had seen him butt heads with ranking officers in the past and he’d been much more combative. This time, she couldn’t help thinking he had conceded much too quickly. Sure, he was exhausted and miserable, but a suspicion had been forming in her that the Captain had a plan he wasn’t letting them in on. And, while she wildly hoped it somehow revolved around finding Spock, she couldn’t for the life of her imagine how. Still, if she was right, they had to find out sooner rather than later.

“Captain…Permission to speak freely, sir.” she said, taking a deep breath.

“Go ahead, everybody else seems to do so”, he smiled at her.

“Oh, I don’t wanna curse, sir, the doctor and Scotty covered me. It’s about Spock.”

Jim’s face stiffened again. “Proceed.”

“I think I speak for us all, when I say that I’d be happy to disobey a dozen Commodores to bring Mr Spock back, sir.” Sulu and Chekov regarded her suspiciously for a moment and then turned to Jim and nodded. Scotty, who was still fuming, muttered “Aye, especially if they’re like this one.”

“I appreciate the sentiment”. Jim's tone was neutral. He seemed like he wanted to add something but stopped himself. Uhura pushed on.

“What I wanted to ask, sir, is could we _actually_ do it?”

She hadn’t intended for her question to be conspiratorial but it must have sounded so, because all eyes turned to her with strange intensity. Chekov dragged his chair closer to the table in the least subtle of manners. Jim was eyeing her cautiously. 

“I take it your question is theoretical, miss Uhura?” 

The way he spoke was confirmation enough for her. He had _something_ in mind. A plan. And if the Captain wasn’t readily sharing it, it was probably dangerous and he didn’t want to risk anyone else’s job or life. He’d done so on many other occasions but this time she wasn’t about to just sit and watch it unfold. 

“ _Of course_ , sir”, she said so innocently that the doctor actually let a smile slip out. Jim was also starting to regard her with faint amusement.

“Well, _theoretically_ , we would have to cross the neutral zone and enter Romulan space, Uhura. We would risk not only dying but also causing an interplanetary conflict. Both are quite unappealing prospects, wouldn't you agree?

She could discern some of the spark return to his eyes, even as his words were serious, his expression blank. Scotty was neither blind nor willing to miss out.  
“Yes but _theoretically_ , Cap’n, if we could get our hands on, say, a _cloaking device_ , that would make all the difference, right?”

Jim seemed almost taken aback by the nonchalance with which Scotty suggested procuring an illegal alien device and installing it on their ship, even hypothetically. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking again. 

“It might, Mister Scott. But devices like that don’t generally float around. The only one we know of is securely stored in Starfleet HQ and is most likely already outdated.”

“Captain, the Klingons have cloaking devices, too! And they do “generally float around” these parts. That’s why that ar- that Commodore was assigned here in the first place, innit?” 

“So, theoretically, in order to avoid a war with the Romulan Empire, you suggest we should start a war with the Klingons, Mr Scott?” Jim almost seemed amused.

“Not at all, sir! But here we’re practically in no man’s land. Romulans and Klingons fight a lot these days, ships get destroyed…I mean, _theoretically_ , if we were to come across something…useful, sir, it would be a _great asset_ for the Federation” Scotty grinned. 

“That’s a pretty big _if_ , Scotty”, Jim’s eyebrows had almost reached his hairline. “And we’re not to remain in this sector for much longer, not if the Commodore can help it”

“Well, good thing I exaggerated about the repairs, then!”

“Mister Scott!” The captain was trying his best to act dismayed but coming up very, very short.

“Only a wee bit, sir.”

Uhura could see his resistance breaking down. He wasn’t ready to give up yet but, after all, this was still a theoretical conversation.

“Even so, Mister Scott. The ship’s sensors would register a _theoretical_ _intrusion_. Stations would be notified, coordinates would be logged, officers would be alerted. Those officer’s might find themselves without a job, if-”. 

“Well, theoretically..”, Sulu cut in.

“Et tu, Sulu?” Jim was past acting dismayed.

“Captain, computers and data banks can be manipulated, if someone knows how navigation systems and sensors are connected to them.”, Sulu stated as naturally as if he were relaying coordinates.

“That’s probably true, Mr Sulu. Theoretically, of course.”

“I mean”, Sulu continued with a sly smile, “If your… experience with the Kobayashi Maru taught us anything, it’s that machines can be forced to produce favourable outcomes”

Jim’s eyes were travelling around the table. His expression was one of wariness mixed with excitement, mixed with something that was trying to become resolve. And there was one final, _big_ , theoretical question that they had yet to pose. Uhura was, again, the one to ask it.

“There’s just one thing, sir. How would we know _where_ to look?”

Instead of replying, Jim just stared at her with piercing eyes and again she knew she was onto something. There seemed to be a war waging inside him, because he did look like he knew the answer but wasn’t ready to part with it.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Jim, just _tell them_ already! I’ve had it up to here with the theories”, McCoy broke the silence. Jim turned to him accusingly but whatever objection still remained in him was by now dissolving.

“The truth is”, he took a deep breath, “I may have planted a tracking device on Mister Spock. So, I guess that is one theoretical problem less.”

Riotous excitement gripped them all. Uhura thought back on the earlier mystifying words of McCoy. So _that_ was what Jim was doing all day in his quarters. Tracking Spock's whereabouts and, more importantly, hatching a plan to get him back. 

"But those things you said to the Commodore", she blurted. "You weren't really counting on his help?"

Jim shook his head. "The moment I heard he was here, I knew not to expect support from him. I mostly wanted on record that Spock might be missing in action."

They were practically beaming. Despite appearances, the captain was still the same resourceful, unswerving force of nature. After all they'd been through, after feeling that, apart from Spock, they might be losing Jim too, this was too good. Jim took it upon himself to bring the delirious joy down a few notches.

“Now listen, all of you. We don’t even know if Spock's still alive. We don’t know if we could turn any of those _theories_ to actions. And if we did, it would be a _very_ dangerous, rogue mission. A mission that Spock, for one, would be very strongly opposed to. I could never ask any of you to willingly participate in such a-”

“Captain”, Uhura interrupted him, “if it wasn't for Spock, we wouldn't _be_ here right now! We owe him our lives.” Scotty and Sulu on either side of her were nodding vigorously but Jim's face had regained it's seriousness.

“Everyone needs to remember that Spock was injured in the line of duty. You all know perfectly well that he would deny he was doing more that just his _job_. And you know he'd hate it if we put ourselves in danger on his behalf", he said. He probably didn’t know exactly who he was trying to convince but it clearly wasn’t working.

“Sure, Keptin. We also know he would try to save you from hell itself. And we would too”, said Chekov cheekily.

Jim’s eyes were starting to get misty. “You truly are the finest crew in the entire Fleet. And _this_ is not in your job description. I beg all of you to think ver-”

“Oh, but it is, Captain!”, Uhura interrupted him again. “Remember that introductory holo they showed us in HQ when we got assigned?”, she smiled. “It said something about the five-year mission’s purpose that really stuck with me.” Uhura knew Jim remembered it. In fact, she knew he had watched it many, many times, so he had a pretty good idea where this was going. That was probably why he was now visibly fighting off tears.

“What was that, miss Uhura?”

"Well, I don’t remember the exact words, sir, but it went something like “to go where no one has gone before”".


End file.
